Betrayal
by boonadducious
Summary: Clark gets kidnapped by a dangerous cult and they force JK to have a frightening change of heart. TC
1. The Blanket

In the most rural part of the state of Kansas, there was a long country road that weaved through seemingly endless cornfields. The light brown dirt that made up the road was rarely disturbed during these summer months. When it was, it was kicked up by either large shipping trucks full of crops or cattle, or aged pick-up trucks full of dirt-poor farmers with whiskey on their breaths or migrant workers in the same condition. Today, though, a different pick-up truck appeared to kick up the dust. Barreling down the road was a newer-looking red truck that contained a clean farm family from the far away town of Smallville, Kansas.

Inside the cramped cabin of the truck, Jonathan Kent sat driving through this dusty road with great pride. If the brown flannel shirt with the long sleeves rolled up or the dingy jeans were no indication, then the light stubble and the dusty hair would tell the world that he was indeed a proud farmer. This was his kind of driving, away from the civilization of downtown Smallville and into the type of land where he was raised, or at least something similar to it. However, the man was doubtful that he would actually make it through this land considering that his driving environment was very distracting. To his side was a stack of three crates full of apples and strawberries that were tucked into the center space of the truck's cabin. The cramming caused the farmer's wife, Martha, who was sitting in the passenger side, to be pressed up against the door so that her elbow was constantly locking and unlocking the door with every slight move she made. She seemed annoyed within the first hour of driving, not just because of the claustrophobic's nightmare that she was living out, but also because of the fourth crate, which was in her lap, starting to chip off and splinter her skin. In all her years of being a farmer's wife, she should have been used to a few injuries caused by wood. But forcing them to stay in her skin for this long was ridiculous. She also didn't think it was necessary to keep the fruit in the cabin so that they would be fresh. She didn't care if it was summer; no crate of fruit was worth her son being banished to the bed of the truck.

This thought caused her to look through the back window of the cabin, or at least the part not blocked by wooden crates, to her son Clark, who was sitting a foot away from the window on a faded cushion stolen from their patio furniture so that he wouldn't slide around the flatbed. He too was carrying a crate in his lap, as well as keeping track of several other crates that were tied down, and therefore sandwiching him into his spot. Unlike Martha, he seemed to be enjoying his ride through the country. The wind was blowing through his long dark hair and his lungs were filling with the fresh air. The dust that the truck was sending into the air didn't seem to reach Clark's windpipe or eyes, which made Clark very thankful. He needed all of the visibility he could muster to keep track of his many fruit crates so that they could stay intact for their buyers.

Martha worried about her son's well-being in the back of the truck, even though she knew that nothing could hurt Clark. She knew that she had to accept the fact that she needed to stop worrying about little things, like riding in the flatbed of a truck, hurting her son. He had pretty much survived everything that has been thrown at him, both in a metaphorical and literal sense, using the enormous power within his bones. However, there was still an inkling that her son was not entirely safe in this part of the state. Martha had never been out here before and there was an uneasiness about why there was a request for her produce this far away from Smallville.

Every time something out of place happened in their lives, she had this same feeling of dread that something terrible would happen to her, Jonathan, or Clark. Even though there were incidences where she was just being silly in this fear, she knew that she had plenty of reasons to have these feelings.

"When are we going to get there dad?" Clark shouted through the back window of the cabin that was opened a crack. Jonathan was relieved that his son had finally broken the silence caused by the broken car radio and the lack of life out in the land they were driving in. He was tired if the crackling of rocks underneath the tires being the only thing keeping him company.

"We should be getting there in about ten minutes," Jonathan shouted back.

"It's just going to be by itself? Nothing around it?" Martha asked in a classic city girl manner. She guessed that living in Smallville didn't really prepare her for real rural life that so many other Kansas residents experienced.

"That's what they told me," Jonathan sighed.

"Why would a small church in the middle of nowhere want to ask a farm that's located an hour and a half away for all this fruit?" Clark shouted through the window.

"I don't know Clark," Jonathan said. "All we know is that they offered a good amount of money and your mother has really been itching to sell her organic produce again. Besides, if they like this delivery, then maybe there will be good word of mouth all over the state. We could really expand and Martha could finally be able to sell the Talon to one of the buyers who are interested in it."

"I guess that makes sense," Clark laughed, not as loud this time.

It was after about another minute of silence that all of a sudden, Jonathan slammed on the brakes and skidded to a stop. Martha and Clark nearly had heart attacks as they frantically attempted to keep their precious cargo from splattering on the ground. They then simultaneously yelled at Jonathan, asking him if it was really necessary. However, when Martha bent over and looked around the boxes at Jonathan staring out his side window with a grave look on his face, she began to think it was necessary. Jonathan clicked the door open and slowly slipped out onto the dirt road. He told his wife and son to stay in the truck as he inspected the object that he saw hidden in the corn fields.

He backtracked about fifteen feet behind the truck before he bent down over the object he thought he saw. When he looked closely he realized that it was exactly what he suspected at first; a white sheet that was stained with blood and sticking out on the road. He moved some tall stalks out of the way to get a better look when he saw that it was half covered with dirt, most likely put there by the wind. Whoever put this here obviously wasn't looking to hide it. However, the most interesting thing that Jonathan saw was something that was wrapped up in the blanket. He saw a corner of the blanket folded over what looked like a nail. Only the head was exposed, which was how he figured it was a nail in the first place. Jonathan moved away the fold that was covering the nail with the tips of his fingernails and saw that there was a thick coating of blood over the body of it. Jonathan gasped, considering his first thought was a crucifixion type of scenario. He shook it off though, attributing that impression to all those years of Sunday school class when he was younger. But there was still a strange thing about this nail though.

Jonathan leaned over the object to get a closer look and saw that part of the head was chipped off on the bottom. Upon turning it over, he could have sworn he saw a glint of green right before his wife grabbed his shoulder.

"What is so interesting over here?" Martha said, right before she was struck speechless by the bloody blanket.

Jonathan just decided to take the liberty of explaining. "I saw this when I was glancing at my side-view mirror. I needed to stop and make sure that it wasn't a dead body or something."

"Is it?" Martha asked, shaking.

"No, but there is a bloody nail buried in the middle of it." Jonathan said, purposefully neglecting to mention the green glint he saw in the nail. "It was probably just from a farming accident or something that happened along here. You know how careless some of these deep rural folks can be."

Martha nodded, even though she wasn't completely convinced. Jonathan wasn't convinced either. He knew there was something about this bloody display that didn't feel right.

The couple walked away from the sight with weird feelings in their stomachs. They somehow knew that this sight would not be forgotten for long. Jonathan thought this especially because of the extra detail he saw. The farmer looked over to the truck and breathed a sigh of relief when he realized Clark hadn't attempted to leave his spot in the flatbed. Clark investigating the situation along with Martha would only complicate things in Jonathan's view and cause more family stress. He didn't want his son to have to worry about bloody nails lying around with a possibility of containing the only thing that could kill him. Clark had enough to deal with, from upcoming college life to his Kryptonian heritage.

Jonathan then shook these thoughts out of his head. He was overreacting. This was just an isolated incident of seeing the aftermath of a bad farming accident. No more, no less. He had no idea why he was making it out to be something like a direct threat on the lives of his loved ones, namely Clark. It was probably just his paranoia kicking into overdrive that was causing this feeling of dread. He had to stop doing this to himself, especially with his bad heart. This trip was going to be just like all other trips they had taken, without incident.

Jonathan and Martha hopped into the truck while in the process briefly explaining to Clark what the sight was in the field. The boy asked if it was worth using his X-ray vision to see, but Jonathan quickly stopped him and told him that it was just a bloody sheet and nothing else. Not worth losing strength over.

Confused, Clark nodded and allowed Jonathan to start up the engine. Martha grabbed her crate, still not convinced of the randomness of their encounter with the blanket. She too did not know where her feeling of dread was coming from, but unlike Jonathan, she paid attention to it. She wanted to discuss this more with her husband when they finally reached their destination, but for now she just wanted to finish the journey they were taking to the small Pentecostal church in the middle of nowhere.


	2. The Destination

Jonathan had told Clark that it would be ten minutes until they finally made it to the church. To Clark, it felt like an hour. Clark wasn't used to this much silence. There was no one talking, not even a word. Martha had been fidgeting the whole way up about the crates in the cabin, but that had stopped. Jonathan had been trying to shush her when she did, but that had stopped. Both Jonathan and Martha had been guilty of humming old songs from the seventies and eighties that Clark couldn't stand, but that stopped, too. Clark was beginning to feel that if he spoke, then his parents would somehow jab him in the face. The intensity of the silence was that bad. What they had seen in that cornfield was obviously overwhelming to them, so much more then simply a bloody blanket.

Clark decided not to push it though. He didn't want to upset his parents right before they met their new clients. But there was still something inside him that said this silence was his problem too.

Right when Clark decided to break the silence, the truck finally stopped. Clark was jolted by the stop enough to see that he had not been paying attention to his surroundings the past several miles. He noticed that the cornfields had finally ended and gave way to expansive wild meadows. They reminded Clark of his many childhood excursions to the outer plains of Smallville that existed before LuthorCorp practically took over his town. Given those memories, Clark felt rather at home in this spot. What could be so bad here that made his parents so nervous? It had to be nothing.

Clark stood up in the truck as he heard his parents click open the doors and finally slip out of the cabin. The boy turned around and finally saw the church that they had been driving so long to get to. The by was not surprised to see that it was really nothing exciting. It was the classic model of an old fashioned chapel with the white painted outside, red tile roof, tall steeple towering from the front, and the large wooden front doors that were adorned with a single cross that they both shared. Stained glass windows dotted the outsides of the church with the climatic one in the center of the front stretching from the middle of the steeple to right above the doors. The church had no real buildings around it except for a small wooden shed that was obscured by the short and wide hill that church sat on top of. It was the hill that really caught Jonathan's attention. He knew that there were no natural hills in this part of Kansas. Especially in land that is surrounded by flat plains.

Clark, on the other hand, was more taken by the fact there were no actual roads leading up to the church on the hill, nor were there parking spaces. The vehicles that Clark saw, mostly old pick-ups, were actually parked halfway on the dirt road and halfway on the land that made the foot of the hill. Clark laughed, thinking that the incline would one day ruin their cars. He laughed even more at the fact that he saw actual people in their Sunday best coming down the road from the opposite direction on foot

"Hey Clark," Jonathan called. "Don't just stand there. Help us out here!"

Clark quickly nodded and grabbed a couple of crates right before kicking open the back flap of the truck and stepping out. He didn't want to carry too many boxes or simply hop out of the truck, because he didn't want to get people wondering about him or his secret. He just tried to copy his father's movements when he carried his crates. Clark felt a little guilty not helping his father more since they were actually carrying these things up an incline, but his father insisted beforehand that Clark not take more than him. The boy reluctantly accepted after a long fight.

When Jonathan, Martha, and Clark plopped the first group of fruit crates on the grassy ground right at the midpoint between the road and the church, several people emerged from the front doors. It appeared to be a rather large family with several children, and even a few young adults among them. As they approached, the Kents realized that they were being greeted and decided to not go back to the truck for more crates. Clark, as always, decided to analyze the folks that were coming to meet them.

The father seemed to be a man in his mid-fifties with salt-and-pepper hair and glasses at the tip of his nose. He also seemed a little stocky in his walk, as if he thought himself as the most important guy in the world. Clark figured that this guy was the minister. His figuring was reinforced with the man's gray sport coat, complete with a dark-red tie. When Clark looked over to his wife, she seemed a little younger than him, but not that much. Even though she looked fifty, she was dressed like she was seventy. She had a short-sleeved flowery dress than went down to the middle of her thighs. On top of that, she had beige high heel shoes. Also, her graying hair was in a bun and her skin was patched with spots. Clark was about to analyze the kids, but he decided to turn his attention to the minister introducing himself.

"Welcome Kent family," the man said with a strong resemblance to a televangelist. Not the Billy Graham kind, but the crazy money hungry kind. From that, all three of the Kents knew that this guy would get annoying fast. "I would like to welcome you all to our humble church. My name is Reverend James Staltzenburger, but you can call me Reverend Jim."

Jonathan silently laughed at that unintentional homage to _Taxi_ as the reverend continued.

"On behalf of the congregation of Plains of God Church, I would like to thank you for coming all this way to deliver us this fine produce of your's. We are very grateful. I'm sure this will mean great reward in heaven for all of you."

"I'm sure it will," Jonathan said softly and sarcastically as his wife lightly shoved him. "Do you want us to take the rest of the fruit out of the truck?"

"Oh no, not yet," Reverend Jim insisted. "First you must meet my family."

Oh joy, Clark thought to himself, even though he was rather looking forward to him introducing the two young ladies in the group that caught his eye.

Rev. Jim introduced his plainly dressed wife as Beatrice. He then moved to the thin young lady that was in the front of the group. She had long and shiny blonde hair as well as flawless skin and a very slim figure. It was only emphasized by her long skirt and white top. She was introduced as Kimberly. There then came the next girl who looked about twelve. She was pretty much and exact copy of Kimberly, only a younger version with different colors to her outfit. She was named Diana. He then moved on to the ten-year-old twins Harold and Billy. They were obviously identical with sandy-blonde hair and pale skin. They were dressed in identical shirts, ties, and pants, which Martha thought was absolutely adorable. They didn't seem to enjoy it very much, though. There was then the youngest one, six-year-old Kelly. She had long brown hair with the classic childlike softness to it, along with fair skin and a frilly red dress. She was bent over and rocking back and forth just like children do when their getting restless and bored. Clark was itching to join her when the reverend finally introduced his last child, Aelora. She didn't look like the other children when it came to family resemblance. She looked like she was in her early-twenties, which would have made her the oldest. She had light brown hair pulled back in a head band that didn't look as kept as Kimberly or Diana's did. She was also not as dressed up, with her light pink flower dress and denim jacket combination. Her skin was very lovely, though, even superior to her sisters'. Clark was not at all surprised when the reverend told them that she was adopted, especially in the theatrical and self-righteous way he did it. It was almost as if he was somehow the second Messiah because he adopted a child. Clark agreed that adoption was important, but not that important.

"That's cool," Clark said, trying to stop his bloated speech. "I'm adopted, too."

"Is that so?" the reverend said as he looked at Clark. He didn't seem all that surprised when he heard that, but he was obviously trying to act like he was. Clark looked back at Aelora to see if she was surprised, but all he could see was the worried look on her face. She was obviously trying to hide it from her father, but it was there nonetheless. When she looked into Clark's eyes, he could see pain, which was not at all uncommon for adopted kids. However, this pain seemed different to Clark. In fact, the look she gave him gave the vibe of her saying "run while you still can!" Clark wanted to hear more about her, but Rev. Jim just told his family to go back into the church. All the way back in, Aelora looked back at Clark with a very worried look on her face. It almost made him shiver. Was this girl trying to tell him something?

"Now that you have met the family," the reverend continued. "Would you like to come inside and join us for worship?"

"You have services on Saturdays?" Martha asked as she finally noticed the people walking up the hill to the church.

"Today is a special occasion," the reverend said happily as he motioned the Kents to come in.

"Are you sure you don't want me to get the rest of the fruit?" Jonathan asked, confused. "They'll rot in this hot weather."

"I'm sure it will be fine," Rev. Jim said.

Before the Kents could object anymore, the reverend had Jonathan and Clark by the arms dragging them in in a subtle, yet forceful way. Martha sighed and decided to follow them and just humor the guy. Jonathan and Clark decided the same thing and told the man that they could go in by themselves. Rev. Jim nodded and smiled as he told the family to follow him inside.

As they got closer to the church though, Clark could feel shivers running up and down his spine, reaching their climax once he was in the doorway. His parents saw how Clark was feeling uncomfortable and right when the reverend left them alone, they asked him what was wrong.

Clark lied and said that he was fine, but in reality the boy really didn't feel right. Jonathan seemed concerned as he saw his son begin to grow pale. Him and Martha quickly rushed Clark into a pew so that he could sit down, but when he did so he began to grab his stomach and moan. Jonathan looked around from his seat at all of the mingling people and tried to find of there was anybody wearing jewelry or anything made with meteor rock. When that came up empty, he then glanced up and down the walls of the church around the small pulpit and the large painted brown cross hung on the back wall with ropes. So far no luck. It was then that he saw something strange about the stained glass windows. He stared at the tall one above the doors they came in. It displayed a picture of Jesus in the middle of the field surrounded by sheep. The green glass that made up the field was giving off more than the sun's light. It was obviously glowing on its own.

"Martha," Jonathan whispered to his wife. "There's kryptonite in the windows."

Martha put her hand over her mouth and rubbed her son's arm. She then suggested that they get him out of there and Jonathan agreed. They didn't want to ask questions about what would possess these people to use the meteor rocks for decoration after all of the heartbreak they brought, even though they were dying to. They just grabbed Clark's arms and helped him get up from his sitting position. They then tried to slip out, not noticing that Rev. Jim was at his pulpit and watching them like a hawk.

"Where are you folks going?" the smirking reverend asked them as the entire congregation in the pews turned their heads toward the doors.

Jonathan sighed an annoyed sigh and said, "Our son isn't feeling well. I'm going to take him outside so that he can get some fresh air."

This statement got the congregation talking. None of the Kents understood why a sick boy would be such a conversation piece, but they didn't really care. They just decided to turn and leave.

"Wait," the reverend called out after a couple seconds.

"What is it?" Jonathan impatiently said

The reverend gave them another smile as he bent down, apparently reaching under his pulpit for something. It was right then that the three members of the Kent family felt the ground underneath them fall in, quickly bringing them with it.


	3. The Basement

Jonathan, Clark, and Martha were shocked and dismayed as they tumbled down the short chute into a pile of pillows that let out a plume of dust as they fell on them. First they find Kryptonite in the windows and now this? Jonathan was beginning to think that luck was not on their side today.

However, when Jonathan looked down at the pillows they landed on, and looked up at the metal-lined chute they had traveled through, he knew that this was no accident.

The man looked around with his burning eyes at his family as he began to cough from the dust. Martha was doing likewise as her casual ensemble with the denim jacket and skirt combination seemed greatly soiled by the dirty cushion they landed on. Other than that, she seemed okay. Clark, on the other hand, was not doing as well. He was lying face up on the pillows, covered with dirt and practically coughing up a lung. The kryptonite was probably making it even more difficult for him to breath.

"It's okay, baby," Martha said as she started to crawl over to her son in order to prop him up. However, when she began to move she let out a huge wail.

"What is it Martha?" Jonathan asked, frightened.

"I think…I think I twisted my ankle," Martha said with her eyes squeezed shut and her voice on the brink of tears. She was obviously in a lot of pain, and yet she managed to say, "Please, Jonathan…help Clark stop coughing."

Jonathan's eyes began to tear up at that statement, not that they weren't teary already from the dust that was in his eyes. He put his shirt over his mouth in order to not get dirt in his lungs and then to moved over to his son and lifted him up so that he had Clark in his lap. When he did so, he caught a glimpse of his son through the brown flying particles. He was shaking as and he didn't seem to have a break in his coughing for him to breathe. On the bright side, the green veins that Clark usually had when he reacted to kryptonite were absent. The deadly rocks must have been far enough away from him to really yield a deadly affect. This meant that Clark would be able to hold his breath for a long time, but still Jonathan didn't want to waste any minutes on the clock. Clark didn't look at all comfortable in his coughing spell. He looked like his chest was in horrible pain. Jonathan quickly responded and dragged the boy off of the pillows and out of the cloud of dust. In this new environment, there was still some dust in the air, but it wasn't nearly as bad as before. Jonathan lifted Clark up so that he was sitting up and beat on his back so that all of the particles got out of his lungs. To the farmer, the time he had to perform this operation seemed like hours as Clark seemed to be coughing his own lungs out.

This reminded Jonathan of what seemed to him like a very random memory about the early days with his son. Clark was six years old and he had choked on something, Jonathan didn't remember what. All that the farmer remembered were the bruises that he got on his hands and arms by trying to give the boy the Heimlich and beat on his back. He also remembered his tears when he realized little Clark was beyond help. The little boy was choking for ten minutes before Jonathan managed to coach him to push the object out on his own. The tears that the boy cried on his daddy's lap after the terrifying ordeal was over resonated in Jonathan's mind the most. Right after that memory entered Jonathan's head, Clark began a pause in his coughing. He was starting to get a few breathes in and out in between heaves of his diaphragm, so Jonathan decided to stop beating the back and let the boy lay down on his lap. This time, when Jonathan looked at his hands, he saw that there were no bruises, which meant Clark was still weak. This made the man worry even as Clark began to breathe more normally.

As he watched Clark gasping for breath in his lap, Jonathan stroked his hair, which made his son smile and feel safe. The farmer then looked up to see his wife dragging herself over to the site by her hands and arms. Her red hair was barely visible through the thick coat of dust that covered it. Her clothes were also more soiled then he originally saw. He was about to make a joke about it to lighten the mood, but then he looked down at his own clothing and noticed that he was just as bad, as was Clark. The plain white shirt he had been wearing was now a light brown, which was probably the reason Clark was still coughing even after the dust had settled. There was plenty of it on his shirt.

Martha began to push through the pain of her ankle and stroked her son on his dirty face with the tip of her finger. Since Clark was now getting the human touch to comfort him, Jonathan decided to look around this room they had fallen into. The first thing that the farmer noticed was that the floors, as well as the walls, were made of bare and chipped concrete. The lighting was made of fluorescent bulbs that streaked all the way across the ceiling, just like the lights in a classroom. However, a classroom was the last thing that Jonathan thought of. The first thing this place reminded him of was the old bomb shelter that he had found when he was around the age of ten. It was in the middle of the woods and he used it as a place to hide from doing his chores on the farm, until the day he decided it was too babyish and never went back. This seemed like the same build plan or his former hideaway, only it was bigger and it had no beds, or furniture, or anything, except a decorated wooden door.

"Look, Martha, a door!" Jonathan said in an excited voice. He didn't even let his wife respond as he hopped up from his spot and trotted over to grab the handle to test it and see if it was unlocked. Sure enough it was, and he immediately turned it to open it. However, he saw something very different from freedom on the other side.

"Hello, Mr. Kent," Reverend Jim with several of the congregation members behind him. "I was wondering when you would discover the door." The man had taken off his jacket and loosened to his tie to reveal a little bit of skin around his neck. This gave the man less of a professional feel than he had when he met the Kents.

Jonathan looked into the man's eyes, which were now absent of glasses, and felt a great sense of loathing. There was no doubt in the farmer's mind that the reverend had done this trap door trick on purpose. Now he had the nerve to actually say 'hello' like he was coming on a courtesy call! This made Jonathan want to punch the man in the face, and, before he could stop himself, he did.

"Jonathan!" Martha called out as she saw the reverend fall into his group of followers. Jonathan himself had to step back and take in what he had just done. All he got in return were the evil gazes of the people in Rev. Jim's company. The reverend himself quickly recovered and dusted some of the dander off of his shoulders like it was debris from a fight. He then told his companions that he was okay while fixing his tie.

"We just want to see the boy," he said as he caught his breath and rubbed the sore spot on his cheek.

"What do you want with my son?" Jonathan said through gritted teeth. "Wait. Better question. Why the hell are we down here!"

Gasps from the crowd preceded the reverend saying in a soft tone, "You'll know everything in time. Right now we just want to see your son. Is there anything wrong with that?" In the process of speaking, Rev. Jim looked straight into Jonathan's eyes and stared him down and, in a sense, began playing with Jonathan's malleable mind. At the end of the speech, Jonathan felt a strong urge to just sit against the wall. It wasn't forced. Jonathan just wanted to sit down. He was tired and deserved a rest. When Jonathan finally did sit, Martha's mouth fell open at the uncharacteristic behavior of her husband. However, Martha proved to be just as gullible when the reverend and company approached her and told her to back away from her son. Clark was now sitting alone, still struggling to breathe and to hold himself up. The cold cement floor only made him feel more cold and alone, although the increased presence around him in the form of encircling churchgoers made that feeling less apparent.

"Look at that pathetic display," said one of them.

"It can't be true," said another.

"He's so handsome."

"No older than my son."

"Don't be fooled!" the reverend shouted over all of them. "This boy, no matter how young or innocent he seems to be, is an unholy demon, and deserves everything that is coming to him."

Both Martha and Jonathan's eyes went wide as they heard the words 'unholy demon' come out of Rev. Jim's mouth to describe their son. They were about to come to their senses and get up from their spots before the two brown-haired twins that the family had met earlier ran through the door, split up, and grabbed both of their waists. These kids may have been young, but they were very strong, and very effective at keeping Martha and Jonathan from going anywhere.

"This boy is indeed the creature that I have been telling you about," Rev. Jim continued in a strong and resounding bellow that made his flock swoon. "He is the inhuman beast that was brought here to make the rest of us curse God. How you ask? He is making us hate our own bodies, that's how! He's making us wonder why we can't be like him, and in the process, strive to do so. Is this the only reason he is evil, you ask? Well, let's just say that the reason he was sent here is only scratching the surface when it comes to his danger. He was not born of a woman, but sent here in a deadly fire that killed many in this fine state. He was not created by the Lord, but mixed in the depths of space, a place that not even angels dare to tread. His evil nature is shown in physical form by the fire that emits from his eyes when he lusts for one of our women. That is but a metaphor for what would happen if he was ever with one of those women, heaven forbid." He then turned his attention down at Clark and looked into his eyes while bending over. "Go ahead, boy. Show us this manifestation."

Clark had tried to contort his position so that he would not have to hear about all of this junk about himself from this crackpot. The problem was that, except for a few exaggerations, the man wasn't lying. In fact, through this sermon, Clark was beginning to face the issues that he had been struggling with for so long. Could he be with a woman? Would he make other people jealous? A jab in the side with a finger and another series of coughs snapped him out of his thinking, and led him to look above him at a piece of paper. On the side facing him, it said "BURN ME" in big letters. Clark wanted to laugh at this statement, but the look of the reverend's eyes right beside it caused him to take the writing as an order. Clark didn't know what made him use his heat vision on the paper, especially since it was weak, but the fact that he did it and that this caused frenzy among the people made Clark immediately regret it.

"You see," Rev. Jim continued as he threw the burning paper in a corner. "It's a good thing that I found out his only weakness, otherwise we would have never known it was him or gotten him this weak. The Spirit was kind to bring him here so that his fate could finally be carried out." At this, the reverend backed away from the site and the people circled around the boy and started to take turns torturing the young lad. One of the men of the group actually kicked Clark onto his back and stabbed his stomach with the heel of his boot. A woman sprayed perfume in Clark's eyes, making his breathing problem worse and his eyes pained. A child pulled Clark's hair and shook it around so that his head started to spin. A young man began to use his pocket knife to swipe Clark's arms with gashes. Another woman dug her fingernails into a part of Clark's stomach exposed by tears in his shirt. There were also the repeated punches in the face, kicks in the side, and shouted slurs that made both Clark and his parent's squirm.

Since there was a myriad of people in the way, Jonathan and Martha couldn't see what these people were doing to make their son scream so horribly. However, they knew that their son was being put through a great deal of pain with them just being forced to look on. Martha then finally decided that she would not be a spectator in this horrible game.

"Stop it!" she shouted as she struggled with her pre-pubescent holder. "Leave my son alone!"

"Yes, leave him alone!" Jonathan shouted as he gained courage from his wife.

The reverend looked at both of them with a stare that could kill if it were a sword. He then called for the people of the church to cease in their torture of young Clark. They reluctantly did so as they backed away from the former hero who now lay broken and bleeding with tears in his eyes and a broken heart to boot. Martha's heart sank and Jonathan just felt compelled to punch the reverend again with several added shots to the groin. This angered him to the point of wanting to cry.

"Your son?" Rev. Jim asked as he shifted his focal point between each parent. "That boy is not your son. He isn't even human. It's time that you two stopped kidding yourselves and started to realize the truth at hand. This boy has not brought you any joy ever since you found him in that field. Whatever joy he has brought you has been overshadowed by the pain."

"How do you know so much about my family!" Jonathan shouted before he was silenced by a wave of the reverend's hand.

"That's not for you to know now. In fact, I'm getting ahead of myself as it is. It's not time for your reeducation yet." The man then turned away from the Kents as they sat in stunned silence, not entirely intentional. Rev. Jim then address his congregation whom was now standing against the wall with the door, simply staring at the injured boy that they were dying to torture again.

"You all must be patient," the man said. "The time is coming when this demon will finally get his justice. In the meantime…"

"What are you going to do to him?" Martha said in a shaky voice, even though it was strong enough to stop the reverend in his tracks.

Rev. Jim turned and stared at the woman with a slightly surprised look on his face.

"Tell 'er," shouted one of the older kids in the group. "Tell 'er what you're gonna do to the bastard!"

The reverend preformed his now familiar hand raise and said, "Later, my son. Now is simply the time for preparation and meditation. The moment we have been waiting for had finally arrived. Let us rejoice in that before we continue further." The man then snapped his fingers and ordered his sons to take the struggling Jonathan and Martha Kent away.

"Clark!" They both shouted as they were taken out of the large room. The beaten and abused Clark was doing his best to lift himself up and catch a glimpse of his departing parents.

"Mom! Dad!" He shouted with all his might before he plopped back on the floor, which yielded even more pain. He then watched as a couple of burly men that Clark did not recognize lift him up and take him out of the room as he slipped into an unwelcome slumber.


	4. The Man

A/N: Okay, I don't usually write author's notes for my stories, but his time I felt a little bad for not giving you guys an update in a while and I thought I should explain why. For a while I was on vacation and wrote an update right before I left. I added to a couple other websites and for some reason I thought I did it to this one, too. However, I just got a review in my e-mail just now and I realized that I hadn't, and I almost blew a gasket. So now I feel horrible and ask for forgiveness. I PROMISE I will not have a blonde moment for the next update, which should be up soon since I'm more than halfway done. Work has not been kind to me so updates are not coming fast, but I'm trying my best. Thank you so much for reading and I apologize that you have such a spacey writer behind this story.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jonathan and Martha were thrown into their small cells feeling colder than they ever have before. Not because of the temperature, but because of the horrible feeling that they felt inside. Their son was being taken and tortured by these strange and heartless cult members, and they did nothing to stop it. They felt like they were the worst parents in the world because something strange was keeping them from moving or speaking while the minister was calling Clark an unholy demon. Nothing could take away the discomfort they felt as they sat in the bare concrete room that looked a lot like the one they were before, only smaller and with beds.

Being thrown in a painful enough experience without having to look into each other's sad eyes. As the large iron door shut and they sat on the floor, they crawled into separate corners by the small, bare cots that were standing on opposite sides of the room. They started to rub the wounds that were inflicted on them by their handlers. The ten-year-old- twins were strong enough before they handed the couple over to even bigger goons that reminded them of ex-cops, mostly because they felt that they were part of a nasty arrest before they were shoved into this icy prison. The biggest cause of their physical woe came from that, but there emotional woe made their wounds pale in comparison. It was nearly fifteen minutes before Martha finally spoke up.

"How could I just sit there while they did that to Clark?" the woman said on the brink of tears.

"Martha, it wasn't just you," Jonathan said in monotone. "There was something there. Something holding us back. I don't know what it was, but it was strong."

"Stronger than the love for our son?" Martha cried. "I think not. Whatever that reverend is doing to us, we have to fight…"

Jonathan then heard a pound as he quickly turned and saw his unconscious wife hit the floor, with Rev. Jim standing over her shaking his head.

"What did you do to her!" Jonathan shouted as he got up and ran over to this man he despised. However, right before he was about to throw a punch to his face, one of the men that brought the two in tackled the farmer to the ground and attempted to restrain him. Rev. Jim then looked into Jonathan's eyes, and watched as he slowly started to end his resistance.

"You'll learn quickly that I don't appreciate being called 'that reverend'," he said in a stern voice.

Jonathan nodded and rested his aching head on the floor. His mind was becoming frustrated with his constant giving in, but something inside him told him that there was no other choice.

"Now that that's over," Rev. Jim laughed. "I think that I need to have a talk with you and your wife."

Clark's heavy eyes finally opened after being asleep for what seemed like hours. The pain that the kryptonite had caused was subsiding, but he could feel it still making him weak. It was most likely the cause of the mounting pain from his injuries that were brought about by the members of the church. His stomach felt the worst of all from the sensation that it had been ripped open, followed closely by his pounding head and cramping muscles. The people who handled him didn't make this situation any better. Even though Clark was asleep during his trip to this new room, he could feel the effects of being thrown in.

The position in which he had been thrown into was not very effective in allowing Clark to see the world around him. In defiance of the people who held him hostage, Clark tried with all of his might to push himself off of the cold cement floor and finally have a chance to get warm and see where exactly he was. However, a sore stomach, bruised arms, and a splitting headache made this task difficult.

"C'mon Clark," he whispered to himself. "You can do this."

After many falls and uttered curses, he did eventually sit up on the floor so that he could see around. After rubbing his eyes to relieve the burning caused by the light mixed with stray perfume, he began to realize that the basement they had fallen into was more of a prison than anything else. If the concrete walls and thin cot in the corner didn't give it away, then the large iron door that kept him from the outside world was the convincing factor. The freezing cold temperature that streamed in from the vent on the ceiling right above Clark's head also gave the feeling of loneliness and fear, although Clark wasn't sure why, at least before his brain lapse went away.

He then began to think of a random subject from his now completed high school days. A psych paper he had written not too long ago about the effect of touch on the body. He wrote that if someone was regularly touched as a child, then it made them more likely to grow into a stable adult. Loving touch has been shown to make sick preemies well as well as troubled children more softened to the people around them. In the process of writing that paper, Clark had begun to think about what he was feeling during those 3+ years in the ship without a living parent to touch him and love on him. Did that somehow affect him psychologically? Clark wondered if that was the reason he was so afraid of being away from his parents when it was cold outside during his youth. Even at the age of fourteen, he felt a longing to be near them during the winter time. It might have been because of the fact that cold signified a lack of something to keep you warm, which was what touch often acted to do. Back then, Clark thought that it was normal to feel a little lonely when the cold was around you, but he began to realize that it was not as common for the other kids. Even now he began to feel like he wanted his mommy. He hadn't thought that specific thought since he was in preschool. It embarrassed him a little bit, even though he was pretty sure that there was no one else in the room. Clark wanted very much to leave this cold place and at least imagine that his parents were not as far away as they seemed they were, but after trying to move, he decided that sitting and shivering would require less of his strength then moving out from under the cold vent. Even though his thinking was flawed, he put it into action and stopped looking around the cell, in fear that it would make him lonelier than he already felt. As Clark's shivering became louder and tears became more inevitable, the feeling that Clark was by himself shattered.

"A little cold are we?" said a scratchy voice from behind Clark.

This voice made the boy's heart jump, which prompted him to quickly turn around, and feel a quick jab of pain in his middle. Before he squeezed his eyes shut, grabbed his side, and let out a small scream, he could have sworn that he saw a man with his face toward the wall on another small cot.

"Aw, my friend," the strange man said. "Are you in pain?"

"Is it that obvious?" Clark growled. He was a little miffed at this guy for sounding like a hippie and just sitting there while he was in obvious torment.

Clark then heard this guy start humming a song that he was not familiar with, even though it sounded like a hymn. This made Clark mad, but more curious. When his mind finally cleared as the pain began to ease, Clark wondered why this man was in the same cell as he was. The boy began to think that he wasn't the only one blacklisted by this bloodthirsty congregation.

Clark's burly hand finally fell from his torso as his heavy eyes opened to look at the man. Since this strange cellmate's back was turned, the first thing that Clark noticed was the long, dirty hair that reached to the middle of his back. There was also a dingy blue cloak that looked like it had been dug up from the shepherds' wardrobe in an old Christmas pageant. When Clark lowered his eyes, he saw that underneath the man was a rusty cot that was covered with faded and dusty sheets. Clark quickly lifted his head when he noticed the man's contorted feet, and saw that the wall in front of him seemed to be covered with writings and drawings of all different types, none of which were very neat. The funny thing was that the etchings were literally covering the entire wall. From where it started to where the man was sitting, there was a ten-foot span in which the writings were wallpapering the grey concrete, but it stopped at where the man's cot was, so Clark figured it was a work in progress. The boy couldn't really read the specific writings considering his headache, but he could see that the drawings on the beginning of the wall seemed to be very neat and well drawn, while it started to become sloppy after a couple feet. From all this, Clark knew for a fact that this man had been here a long time. However, he would love to know why, as well as what happened to his to make the writing bad like that. Asking him seemed like the best option, especially considering a good report with this man might be able to get Clark and his parents out of here.

"Excuse me," Clark said after gathering his energy.

The man slowly turned his head around to reveal his pale, bearded face. The thing that most caught Clark's attention, though, was his eyes. They did not point right at Clark, and they were faded, as if they were damaged. Clark then saw a glimpse of his hands. They were curled as if they were crippled, and they seemed contorted into the position to hold the coal pencil he was using to draw. That certainly explained the sloppiness of the drawings.

"What is it, friend? Forgive me, but my eyes, my feet and my hands are not the best. I most likely won't be able to help you with what you need." The man's voice sounded like that of a wise Buddhist monk, even though he looked no older than twenty five.

At this point, Clark knew that this man was blind and unable to walk. Even though they were obscured by the shadow of the bed, he could tell that they man's feet were just as crippled as his hands, if not more.

"What's your name?" Clark asked, trying to save the hard questions for a little later.

"My name's Steven," the man said as he smiled and massaged the wrist with his writing hand on it. "Yours?"

"Clark. Clark Kent."

"That's a…nice name." Steven said softly. "You sound like a strong young lad. You're at least twenty-eight, am I correct?"

"No," Clark said. "I'm eighteen."

"Oh my," Steven laughed. "I guess when you're blind, your perceptions are a little off."

"I see," Clark said, hanging his head, knowing that even men that could see have made that mistake. He then decided to be brave with his new cellmate.

"How did…you become…blind?"

"Ah," Steven said with a slight smile on his face. "I know what you're thinking, but I did deserve it."

Clark's stomach dropped at his worst fears being realized. "The reverend did this to you?"

"It was God doing this through the reverend, Clark. I was a criminal. I needed to be shown the way that the world really is. You see, I was what you would call a rebel. I grew up in this church and I still decided to stray away and do what I wanted. I dated strange women, held their hands, kissed them once or twice. I even had the nerve join one of their churches and become a Presbyterian. Ha! What a fool I was. Anyway, I was taken here and told that I needed to change my ways and immediately repent. Like the silly boy I was, I refused. They then…"

"…made you blind?" Clark interrupted, all while trembling.

"They did put hot irons to my eyes, yes. But I needed more motivation. I was practically spitting on the sacrifice our Lord made on the cross when I went the way I did. I guess the best way for me to appreciate it again was to actually go through it myself."

Clark could feel his heart pumping a mile a minute as Steven rolled up his sleeves, revealing what looked like nail scars on his wrists. This certainly explained the crippled hands and feet, but Clark was beginning to wish that he hadn't seen these things. Was this what would happen to him? He'd read about Roman crucifixions. They were the most painful way to die that anyone could imagine. Clark, despite the circumstances, couldn't really think of himself as he thought about what hell Steven must have gone through. All of that torment just because he wanted to change churches. And after all of it, this boy was still down in this cell, and thinking he deserved all of what came to him. Clark was just now beginning to see what these horrid people were capable of.

"I can feel your sorrow for me, young man," Steven said.

How do you know what sorrow feels like, Clark thought. You certainly got none here.

"I assure you," he continued. "The reverend was simply fulfilling the parental duties that God gave him in doing…"

"Rev. Jim's your father!" Clark shouted as he fell back onto the floor in exhaustion of all that he had just heard. "How could he do that to his own son?"

"Oh, he was kind to me. You, on the other hand, will not be so lucky, considering you're the one he's been looking for all these years."

"Years?" Clark said after lifting himself up again. "What do you mean he's been looking for me for years?"

"You're Clark Kent, correct?"

"Steven, stop it! Can't you see he's been through enough?" shouted a voice from the other side of the room.

Clark was frightened at this new voice that had now joined them. It sounded like a woman this time, and a young one at that. Clark was afraid that this one would be missing an ear or a hand or something horrible like that. Clark didn't want to think about what else was in store for him as he waited under this cold and lonely vent. Clark just closed his eyes and slid into the fetal position trying to get the horrible images that Steven gave him out of his head. That was difficult, though, considering he could hear the conversation that his cellmate and the strange woman were having.

"You know as well as I do that this boy should be warned of what's coming to him so that he can repent. He should not be a fool like I was."

"How many times do I have to tell you, Steven? You did nothing to deserve what happened to you. This boy didn't either. I suggest you stop talking until I tell you to."

"You're not our father. You can't influence me."

"Oh, draw on your wall, Steven! You've ignored all of Father's crimes for this long. You can do it for a few more hours."

Clark began to soften to this new voice after hearing this conversation, and his sore body became more relaxed. It was just now that he began to notice how the stress was taking a toll on his already battered body. As he started to shiver from the air again, he felt a soft hand on his shoulder that made the cold air feel more like the breeze on his farm that he missed so much. This feeling gave him the peace of mind to finally go to sleep.


	5. The Woman

"What is wrong with you man!" shouted Rev. Jim in the dark room he now stood in with Mr. and Mrs. Kent.

Jonathan Kent had been stripped of his shirt and tied by his wrists and his ankles. They placed him on his knees on top of an old ataman in the center of the room that had the padding stripped off to reveal the wooden box underneath. His wife was tied to a pole against the wall of the small and enclosed space they were in. She had all of her clothes intact, but she was wishing that she could take her husband's place right now. The reverend was taking a whip that looked like it was taken out of the _Indiana Jones_ movies, and was beating Jonathan across his back at every hearing of the word "no".

"Your son is not a blessing Mr. Kent," the reverend said. "He is a curse. You know that."

"No," Jonathan breathed with all that was in him, only to be met with another whip on the back that made him scream in such a way that made his wife cringe in her spot. She wanted desperately to help Jonathan, but she made a promise with him before he was tied up that she wouldn't attempt to stage any escape attempts. That scenario would only cause more trouble for their son as well as for themselves.

Jonathan was now hunched over, grinding his teeth together to try and take away from the throbbing pain coming from his back. Jonathan's dark blue eyes were now dry and bloodshot and fine hair was dark with sweat. His voice was scratchy from the screaming he was doing and his hands were trembling at a level that resembled Parkinson's disease. With every blow, Jonathan became more pathetic and frail, and the reverend gained even more satisfaction.

"Your wife was barren for a reason, Mr. Kent. She was given thyroid cancer as a child for a reason. The chemo dried up her ovaries for a reason."

Martha was becoming very agitated and upset. She tried to struggle free from the restraints, but as she resisted, the ropes got tighter around her wrists. "Leave him alone," she finally shouted. "How dare you! You horrible man! You…!" A kick in the face by one of the reverend's goons silenced the lone female Kent but bashing her head against the pole. Jonathan watched helplessly as his wife slumped to the ground unconscious. Jonathan's anger was beginning to mount as he saw the happiness on the reverend's facec for that action. He was too weak to show it, but it was there.

"You were intended to be barren for one reason or another," Rev. Jim continued. "Taking in the young alien boy was messing with that plan. You were not supposed to have a child. On top of that, you took in a potentially dangerous being and raised him like a normal human! Taking that into consideration, no wonder you were cursed."

"N-n-no," Jonathan uttered, with more rage building up inside of him. It was unable to show itself, though, because he could barley hold his head upright. That fact made Rev. Jim's subsequent punch in the face all the more surprising.

Jonathan spit the blood out of his mouth as he looked back up into the eyes of the angry reverend. The farmer tried to look away, but there was something drawing him. He knew what this was. It had happened before. Jonathan swore he would not be intimidated by this man any longer. Looking away now became a priority. At least it was, until the reverend spoke again.

"Do you remember when your baby died Mr. Kent?"

Jonathan's eyes became wide as his breathing became quick and nervous. He became frightened as once-dead emotions began to conjure in his soul.

"I see that you do," the reverend continued as he shot a glance at Martha. "If your wife were with us I'm sure she'd say the same thing. Good thing, too. I need it for the cleansing."

"The what?" Jonathan gasped.

"I know what your impressions about me are Mr. Kent. You think I'm somehow hypnotizing you or something like that." The reverend began to laugh before he continued. "That's not true. You see, I have a wonderful gift. My mere presence can help people realize the emotions that they keep buried inside. Those are the emotions that are only buried because of our inability to be honest with ourselves. We were not meant to be liars, Mr. Kent. We were meant to be truthful beings. People that let the deep, dark thoughts of our subconscious out in the open. I call that dark place the 'devil's pit'."

Jonathan kept his eyes fixated on Rev. Jim. It was too late. He couldn't take his gaze away from his round face and thin spectacles. His green eyes were the focal point, and Jonathan now found it necessary to listen. When he saw that Jonathan was finally too weak to resist, Rev. Jim grinned and spoke again.

"Now that I have your attention, let's talk."

* * *

Clark heavy eyes finally opened with the sound of soft music playing in his small cell. It sounded like a few girls singing a slow and sad song, which, in a way, reflected his mood at the moment. His head was pounding and his entire body was now twice as sore as before. Clark also was beginning to feel the effect of anxiety on his stomach, which was not a pleasant mixture with everything else. Clark then noticed that he wasn't as cold as before. He saw that the surface he was on was not damp and hard, but soft and dry. He pulled himself up to see the cot that was now his resting spot, and then plopped right back down again.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the movement of another person in the room. He started to panic at first, since the lights were now all off in the room except for a couple that were near him. Darkness was never Clark's ideal environment for reassyring sights. However, he began to hear a female voice coming from the figure. It was singing along to the music in the room, and very well, too. Clark's fear then began to subside, mostly because he had never faced an enemy that sang like an angel

"Hello sleepy-head," the girl said. She had an accent that sounded like it was a mix of every European dialect he could think of. She also had a soft and yet mature way of speaking that made her sound safe. She also had a non-threatening build, at least the outline of her in the dark room did.

She finally stepped closer to the bed and out of the light to reveal herself to Clark's tired eyes.

"Aelora?" Clark said as he finally saw her face. He knew that brown hair and those thin rimmed glasses anywhere. She was the oldest daughter that Rev. Jim had introduced him to earlier. She was the one who had warned him about all this through her foreboding gazes. For some reason, Clark was not surprised to see her. In fact, asking questions was the last thing on his mind. She was here to help and he knew it.

"I take it you're feeling better," Aelora said. "I mean, since you're awake."

"Yeah," Clark moaned. "I only feel like a truck crashed into me now rather than a freight train."

Aelora laughed and put a wet sponge on Clark's sore head. As the warm water dribbled across his face, Clark felt a huge sense of relief. He started breathing easier as the cold sensations in his body began to ease. All he needed now was for his hands and toes to stop feeling like ice. He could also do without the pain that was still evident all over his body.

"Thanks," Clark said before he asked what was really on his mind. "You're different from the rest of them."

"Yeah, Captian Obvious" Aelora laughed as she tried to concentrate on what she was doing.

"Why?" Clark asked.

Aelora stopped rubbing the sponge on Clark's head and looked him in the eye.

"Why are YOU different from everybody else?"

"You mean…the whole…thing? I mean…do you know about…that?"

"I do, Clark. You don't have to stutter. You may be injured, but you can still communicate like a human being."

"I see." Clark said, slightly paranoid. "Well, why am I…? I don't know."

"Come on, Clark. This is probably the easiest question you'll ever get."

"I was…born like that?"

"Close. You were made like that," Aelora said, now with a more compassionate tone. "I was made the way I am. Only rather than having powers, I was given an actual brain."

Clark giggled a little bit before he grabbed his side and winced. For a second, Clark actually began to forget how sore he was. He knew a rude awakening was in store.

Aelora made a concerned face and removed the sponge from Clark's head. She then placed it back in the bucket full of water she had with her. She then dragged it over to Steven's bedside where the scraggly man was sleeping.

"So, where does it hurt?" Aelora asked from across the room.

"Everywhere," Clark moaned. "But I have a better question. How did you get in here?"

Aelora sighed and said, "I know this place pretty well, Clark. I know how to maneuver around and stuff like that."

"I see," Clark said, looking to ask another question. "Why are you so kind to me? I know it's because you don't agree with the others, but you seem to have…uh…"

"…An attitude?" Aelora said as she went over to her backpack that was lying by itself in the middle of the room.

"Well, I…"

"Trust me, Clark. I know I have an attitude. Everyone has something that they're trying to get over. I for one stopped trying so that I could use it against my father. I doubt that he would suspect that his rebellious adopted daughter would help his victims. You can say it's my secret identity."

"But your father's not here."

"I have to practice, don't I?" she laughed. "But seriously, Clark. I'm here to help. I don't think any less of you because you're different. None of these people should. Unlike a lot of things in this world, your condition can't be helped."

"My condition?"

"Sorry," Aelora laughed again. "I couldn't come up with a better word." Aelora then picked up her backpack and started to head for the door.

"You're not leaving are you?" Clark asked as he slowly propped himself up.

Aelora sighed. "I don't want to, but I have to. Father will be coming back at any moment. I can't be here while he's here. I'm no match for him and I won't be able to watch as he takes another one."

"Wait a minute. He's coming back?"

"Of course he is, Clark. Didn't you hear what he told you before? The worst is yet to come. You didn't actually think he would just leave you here?"

Clark didn't think that. He knew that Rev. Jim would come back, he just didn't want to believe it. Clark was now beginning to get frightened. He looked back over at Steven and saw what was done to him. He gulped back the bloody drool that he was emitting as his mouth wounds opened again from nervous biting. His eyes began to brim with tears as he began to flip through all possible scenarios that could happen to him, or to his…His parents! He hadn't thought of them.

"Aelora, do you know if my parents are okay? Did he let them go?"

Aelora sighed and picked up her things. "I can't tell you too much, Clark. That would only put you through more pain than necessary."

"Pain! What did that bastard do to them!"

"Calm down, Clark."

"Calm down! I can't calm down! I…" Clark once again felt a shot of pain starting from his hip and then moving to his arms and his legs. He let out a loud groan and squeezed his fists so hard, that his nails were close to puncturing skin. "Don't go," he moaned, now realizing that he couldn't be alone. He needed a friend or a loved one to hold his hand until the pain subsided. At the moment, Aelora was all he had. He tried to be a man and fight back the tears, but it proved to be a harder task than fighting back all of his pain. He didn't feel as wimpy when he noticed that Aelora had a wet face as well.

"I'll be back, Clark." Aelora said, now sounding very reassuring and almost motherly. "When the war subsides I'll be back again to be by your side. But, before I go, I have to tell you this. Please remember that your parents love you more than you will ever know. It's just something about this place that…" Aelora jumped as she thought she heard footsteps. "I must leave…I mean…gotta go," she said as she scurried over to the door and ran out.

'Why did she take the door?' Clark thought. 'She'll get caught. And I know my parents love me. Why would she tell me that?'

Clark was still in great pain, but for some reason, a soothing affect had come over him. After a few seconds, he figured out what it was. Aelora had turned up the music that she was playing before. Apparently she had no problem with her father discovering a boom box in the room. He was glad of that, too, because even though Clark's head was practically splitting in two, he could hear the lyrics and didn't feel alone.

_So if the whole wide world is on your back,_

_And the strength you need is the strength you lack._

_You're in a crowd but all alone,_

_You can't stay here, but you can't go home_

_If you can't answer all the whys,_

_'Cause you're too tired to reach that high,_

_I want you to remember._

_If you ever need me,_

_You know where to find me,_

_I will be waiting,_

_I'm where I've always been._

_If you ever need me,_

_You know where to find me,_

_I have never left you,_

_I'm where I've always been._

_Right by your side_

_I'm right by your side._

Through this song, Clark was able to ignore the door opening and what seemed like ten people walking into his cell. It wasn't until Clark noticed the many scowling faces standing over him that he began to become frightened. However, there was one angry face that he fixated on. It was that face that made him breathe hard and want to start crying again. That face made him believe that things were going from bad to worse. It was the face that made him understand Aelora's last words to him. It was the bruised and bloodied face of his father.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: The lyrics posted above are not mine but they belong to Matthew West. In case you're curious, the song it's from is "You Know Where to Find Me".


	6. The Crown

A/N: I know it took me forever to update and I feel like scum for it. Work and college are kicking my butt.However, over the next few days I will be posting a daily update, so I hope thatthat will make up for it.

Martha seemed more helpless than ever as she awoke in yet another cell, only this one seemed more like jail than her previous quarters. It had no bed, no window, and a lone light bulb to help her see where she was going. Her legs seemed like they didn't exist anymore as she finally got her entire conscious self back. She had a slight panic attack as she quickly felt around her feet to make sure she wasn't cut apart in her sleep. As soon as she discovered that this wasn't the case, she crawled over to a wall and pushed herself up with its help. Still limping on her sprained ankle, Martha hobbled toward the bars and looked around the dark room that housed a single guard.

"Where's Clark!" she cried to the man with an exhausted voice. "Where's Jonathan?"

The man, who had a small flannel shirt and ripped blue jeans got up from his rusty folding chair and came over to her. He had a small amount of stubble and his blondish-brown hair seemed to go in a million different directions. His tall stature reminded her of Jonathan, since he seemed to hover over a foot over her.

"You don't have to worry about them," the man said. Martha gasped as she now realized who this man was.

"Jonathan!" she cried. She felt stupid for not recognizing him at first. However, the lighting scheme could easily cover up her husband's handsome facial features. But, as Martha got a better look at him, she noticed that there was something horribly different about his eyes that could also have hidden him. They looked empty and confused, as if some part of him, the part that always glowed, was washed away. It was that feature that made Martha reluctant to get closer to him than she already was as he came right up to the bars.

"I wanted to be here when you woke up." Jonathan said. "How are you doing?"

Martha couldn't respond. She was too frightened by the tone in Jonathan's voice. There was now a sinister edge to the normally compassionate and rugged speech she knew so well. When she finally worked up the courage to speak, she could only ask why he wasn't in the cell with her.

"I don't need to be," Jonathan said. "I've finally been awakened."

"Awakened?" Martha said loudly. "To what!"

"To the fact that we have been in the dark all this time about the true nature of Clark."

Martha started to breathe hard and grip the bars tightly. It was the only thing she could do to keep from fainting right there at the reverend's words coming out of Jonathan's mouth. "How could you say that?" she said in a whisper.

"Think about it, Martha. He came in a meteor shower that killed dozens of people. He was sent here to take over the world. He murdered our child."

"Murdered our child! Jonathan, it was an accident. He ran away from home because he felt so guilty!"

"That's what he wants you to think."

"Jonathan, I can't believe you're saying this!"

"I can't believe you're so blind to it all. You're only saying this because Clark is our only child and if he goes, we have nobody. That was why he killed the child. If we had a baby, a normal baby, he knew we would not protect him in circumstances like this when he was finally discovered since we had another child to love after him. We would then see his true self since the "only child" curtain is now gone, then reject him like we should have done a long time ago. Without us, Clark's connection to the human race would be no more, but since we have to protect him now that he's our only hope for a family, he can get all of the leeway he wants."

Martha tried with all of her might to keep back the tears spurned by all of the cutting words Jonathan was delivering. "You're not making any sense," she said.

"Actually, I feel like I'm making more sense than ever." Jonathan said, in a manner that reminded Martha of Lex's evil side that tried to kill Clark so many months ago. That threat seemed like a picnic compared to this.

Martha tried to get her composure as she said, "Is this my husband talking, or Rev. Jim's controlled drone?"

A deep frown then crossed Jonathan's face as he banged on the bars with his hands in a manner that startled Martha to the ground. The woman grabbed her ankle as it twisted again during the fall and looked up at her departing husband. Tears rolled down her cheeks as the door to the guard's chamber slammed shut. Martha dropped down her entire body onto the floor as fear for her son welled up inside of her. Jonathan's words did not phase her at all. She had no doubt in her mind that Clark's true nature was right in front of them, and it wasn't just a mother's intuition or "only child syndrome", it was a pure and true nature that made Clark the best son a mother could have.

"It's alright Clark," she whispered, praying that in some supernatural way she could be heard by her son. "I'm here, I'm always here. Your father is, too, he's just not able to show it right now. But don't worry, you're never alone."

Clark woke up to what sounded like a whisper, but then was fully awakened by the circumstances surrounding him. His shirt was gone and his arms were tied around a long wooden pole that rested against his chest. The boy was on his knees, thankfully with his jeans still on, and bound by his ankles. His cheek was pressed up against the pole so hard, that Clark couldn't even turn his head the slightest bit to look at his surroundings. It was almost like he was watching a movie that was shot by a camera lying on the ground. Clark began to shake as he began to see people moving about with spiked instruments that reminded him of medieval weapons of torture. The room he was in seemed like every one he had been in since he was thrust into this horrible place; grey, confined, and prison-like.

Clark then heard the door that he was facing away from fly open and bang against the adjacent wall before closing again. Somebody very angry was obviously coming into the room, which didn't spell good news for Clark's nerves.

"She won't budge," said this newcomer angrily. "Are you sure that you tried every argument on her?"

"Yes," said the calm voice of Rev. Jim. "You heard me talking to both of you. I'm surprised that Martha's heart is so poisoned that she won't listen to my reasoning."

"I think Martha might be beyond help. I'm not sure what to do with her. I wish I had your wisdom" The voice said exasperated. All of a sudden, Clark recognized the voice. He knew by the wish for wisdom that Clark had heard before.

"Dad? What's going on?" Clark managed as he tried to turn his face toward the other direction. However, the ropes were still as tight as ever, and the surrounding group now knew that he was awake.

"It's about time," the reverend said in a snide manner. "I'd rather you be awake for this."

"For what?" Clark asked through his squished lips, almost afraid to hear Rev. Jim's answer.

The reverend walked around so that he was in Clark's frame of vision. Jonathan joined him, but he was holding pointed iron bar in his hands. Clark noticed that his father's face was bloodied and bruised, but also angry and frightening. He had never seen his father look at him with this much shame and contempt. However, his eyes contained empty looks. It reminded Clark of the looks he got from Chloe when she was under the control of the cheerleader love potion, or Lex when he was persuaded by Bob Rickman. No matter what had caused it this time, Clark had a feeling that his father was not going to play fake and rescue him.

"You make a very good innocent act, Clark," Rev. Jim said as he looked the boy in the eye. "However, no one is fooled by it any longer."

Clark started to breathe quickly as he watched a couple henchmen light a match over a cauldron of wood in the background. A fire was started and Clark had a strong feeling that it wasn't for cooking marshmallows. He asked, "What are you talking about?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Jonathan said. "You've been deceiving your mother and me long enough. You aren't human nor will you ever be, and yet you deceive the world in order for you to do your father's bidding. You feel that we are inferior to you. That is why you want to take us over and murder all the innocents that get in your way. I used to think that you were as innocent as the child you killed, but I was being deceived by my own weak emotions and need for a farmhand. Now those things have been cleared, and my vision couldn't be better."

"Dad. Wha…?" Clark couldn't speak. These words cut him more than any jagged piece of Kryptonite, any knife, any whip, any fiery meteorite ever could. Clark could feel the tears welling up in his eyes as his emotions ran haywire. All of the things that Aelora said before, all of the observations about his father's eyes, were forgotten. All Clark could think about was the horrid words coming from the man that saved him from being found by a scientist and cut apart. The man who raised him like he was normal. The man who knew that Clark was a freak of nature from the moment he found him, yet loved him nonetheless. This man taught Clark how to use heat vision. He was Clark's main motivation for being the person he was today. Now, that man was standing here, looking at his son like he truly was an alien, and it wasn't the first time. Jonathan had forced his son to run away with the grieved look in his eyes outside Martha Kent's hospital room. No matter how many times Jonathan apologized for his actions in the hospital two years ago, Clark knew that deep down those feelings were there. This speech began to reinforce this reasoning.

"Don't you see Clark?" Rev. Jim said. "You're found out. You have no allies anymore, only enemies. We are here to exact on you what you were planning to exact on us."

"Actually, it is more like the physical version of what you have exacted on us already, plus what you would exact on us." Jonathan interjected.

"Dad…you…can't...mean that." Clark said while trying to hold back his tears. All of the guilty feelings from the past were now surfacing again and all Clark wanted to do was sit in a room by himself and cry. His stomach wrenched as the memories of the death of his unborn sibling returned to him. All of the horror at what he had done and the wondering if all he could do was bring destruction upon this world.

"I meant every word," Jonathan said in an almost controlled monotone. He then turned toward the fire and stuck the tip of his iron bar into the flames.

Clark's heart raced as the reverend knelt on one knee and looked the boy in the eye. Anger pulsed through his veins as he thought through his guilt and growled, "What did you do to my dad? And where's my mom?"

"I did nothing to your father or mother." Rev. Jim said in a soothing voice.

"Liar!" Clark shouted as he felt something like the sole of a shoe hit his back. The laughing in the background made Clark realize that a few henchmen were trying to get a rise out of him. The beating and the laughing continued as Clark felt humiliated and hurt. At least he thought he felt that way, until the insults came.

"Hey Superboy, where's your power now?"

"C'mon! Defend yourself!"

"What kind of a guy kills his own sibling?"

"Babykiller! You don't deserve to live!"

"Come on men," Rev. Jim said from his kneeling position. "The boy will not be insulted by that. He killed his brother on purpose."

"No," Clark cried. "It was an accident! I swear. I never wanted to hurt that baby. Dad! Please believe me! I'd never hurt anybody! I don't want…""

"Enough!" Jonathan shouted to Clark as he turned around. The minions stopped their beating and backed away from the boy as they laughed at him more. What was left of Clark's pride was now a thing of the past as he sat there beaten and abandoned. He tried to hold onto the hope of his mother still being on his side, but as he looked at the light from the red-hot iron reflect in his father's eyes, he couldn't imagine that his mother had not developed a similar opinion. Clark was now officially alone. He had nobody who loved him to defend him now. Clark now had to face what he knew would be a horrible ordeal alone. His insides churned and his tear ducts began to empty as the realization dawned that he was going to die alone.

"Pathetic," the reverend spat as he got up from his knee. He then brushed some of the dirt on the floor toward Clark, thereby making him have a coughing attack. "Jonathan, have you ever seen anything this sad?"

"Not that I recall," Jonathan said as he looked into his son's pleading eyes. The reverend noticed that they were now locked into a stare toward each other. Before it lasted too long, Rev. Jim nudged Jonathan and took the iron from him.

"I'll take care of this, brother," he said.

"Why can't I?" Jonathan said as he rubbed his eyes.

"Some things are better left for the lifelong servants. I'll still let you watch, though. First I'm going to test it."

Rev. Jim then placed the iron to the center of Clark's shoulder blade. Clark let out a wail of pain as all of the men in the room smiled.

"Ahh, perfect." Rev. Jim laughed as have Jonathan an order with his finger. The man then ran behind Clark and grabbed him by the hair in order to pull his head back. "Now for the first step in punishing this thing for its grace upon this sacred earth of ours."

Clark was trembling and pleading as the iron got closer to his left eye. When it finally made contact, Clark screamed louder than he ever had before. He was jerking around like a drug addict having a withdrawals and the more he moved, the tighter Jonathan's hand gripped his hair. As the hot metal touched his right eye, Clark's fear escalated and his energy ran out. Right before he fainted from pure emotional and physical anguish, he realized that he was now to spend the rest of his miserable life in the dark and lonely world of a blind man.


	7. The Mother

"Clark? Clark!"

Aelora was frantically slapping the face of the sleeping boy in her arms as he tried to surprises the bleeding coming from his head.

She had been watching from a hidden corner of Clark and Steven's holding cell as a group of men, Jonathan Kent included, threw the boy onto the concrete floor of his quarters. They didn't even look to see if he was okay. They just left him with his head clearly injured. After they had gone, Aelora had to run over and lift the boy so that his gash didn't get infected. She noticed all of the bruises from his newest ordeal and knew immediately that they were going to treat him worse than she imagined.

"Clark!" she cried. "C'mon kid, wake up!"

"Why do you care Aelora?" Steven said from across the room. The entire time, he had his back turned to the wall, attending to his drawings just like nothing had been going on.

"Why don't you just do us all a favor and shut up?" Aelora said angrily as she propped Clark's heavy head on her extended leg. She firmly placed her hand on top of the bleeding spot so that it would not continue. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply before removing her hand from the area that was now free from blood and injury. She sighed and tried to work through the mental anguish she was going through for this boy. It was only a matter of time before he woke up and told her of all the horrible things that had happened to him in the past hour, even though the redness around his closed eyes gave her an idea of that already. Most likely he had forgotten her words to him. It didn't surprise her. Everyone who came through here did. He was most likely going to end up like all the others and just waste away like Steven. There was nothing she could do to help but get rid of small wounds. There was only one thing that could stop this whole thing. However, it had never happened before and she had no reason to believe Clark would be any different.

Just as she was about to drag the boy into the cot after fifteen minutes of waiting, Clark woke up, and within seconds he went into a panic.

"Wha…wha…ahhhhh…AAAAHHHH…" he shouted as he got up and scrambled around the floor on his hands and knees with his eyes shut the entire time.

"Clark," Aelora shouted through the screaming. "Calm down! You're like a chicken with its head cut off."

"No…NOOOOOO. NO MORE! KEEP AWAY FROM ME!"

Aelora got onto her feet and tried to chase after the panicking boy. He eventually got exhausted and couldn't support himself on his hands and knees anymore. He collapsed on the floor and tried to slide across to wherever he could go. He was wincing from pain as he did it, which did not make him any less frightened as Aelora grabbed his hand.

"NO! STOP! STOP!"

"Clark, it's me! Pull yourself together!

"AELORA! IS THAT…? OH GOD…I CAN'T SEE! I…OH GOD NO! YOU'RE IN ON IT! YOU'RE GOING TO…"

"Clark!" Aelora shouted as she grabbed his head and held it in her arms. "Stop cursing and listen to me! I'm not going to hurt you! You're safe now."

Without struggle and with a softer tone, Clark panted, "Why should I trust you, Aelora? The two people I trusted the most are now working against me."

"You know you can trust me." Aelora said softly as she began to stroke Clark's sweaty hair. "I won't forsake you, I promise. I'm risking a lot to be here."

Clark all of a sudden felt comforted as Aelora lifted his head to her eye level. He reached out his hand and waved it in front of him until he found Aelora's face. He felt it and started to breath easier as he recognized her kindness even without his sight.

"I wish I could see your eyes," he said, still without breath. "The last pair of eyes I will ever see are…are…of…oh Aelora…it was so awful…I…just want to…"

"Clark, I forbid you to say 'die'! You can't give up. Just because they took your sight doesn't mean that they can take your will to live."

"Too late," Clark said with a gurgling voice. "I just need…I want someone who loves me…to...everyone who loves me is…I have no reason to…"

"Stop!" Aelora said as she held Clark's head close to her one again. He became silent, as if he was not returning her offer of comfort. "You're wrong, you know. You are still very loved, more than you will ever know."

Without anymore words, Clark threw his arms around Aelora's waist and started to bawl in her arms. Aelora, knowing that this was only the beginning, began to weep with him.

"Knock, knock," said the reverend as he stood watching Martha Kent through the bars of her cell.

The words made her wake up from a not-so-deep sleep to look into his eyes. All she wanted to do was punch him in the face so hard that his face would indent.

"What do you want?" she bellowed.

Rev. Jim got out an oversized key out of his pocket and unlocked the cell before he slipped inside.

"Get away from me!" she shouted as she got up and pressed herself up against the wall.

"I just want to talk, Mrs. Kent."

"No. I'm not going to talk to you until you tell me what you did to Jonathan!"

"Wow. That's the question of the day." The reverend said as he slowly came nearer to her.

"Don't get any closer to me!" she shouted, trying to fight off the urges that were coming over her. They didn't seem to come from her own heart, but from something else, and she didn't have to think too much to find out what that was.

"Don't be so aggressive Martha. You're under stress. Maybe that's the reason you're being so reluctant to take what I'm saying seriously."

Rev. Jim was now so close that his cologne was overriding Martha's senses. He then grabbed her hips and started to give her a long kiss on the lips. The urges that Martha was trying to fight were now surging throughout her body. However, she was trying not to let herself succumb to them. The struggle reminded her of when she was trying to wake up from a deep nightmare, only this was much worse of a struggle than that. She knew that this was the thing that would make her want to hurt her precious Clark. She could never do that. This child was the love of her life. The only reason she felt like she could wake up in the morning besides her husband. She couldn't hurt him. She wouldn't.

All of a sudden, the reverend was off her and backing up against the bars holding his stomach in pain. Martha lowered her knee and breathed a huge sigh of relief as she slid down to the floor. Her will was exhausted, but still intact, which made her feel accomplished and proud. Once again, a mother's love has triumphed over the elements. However, she became very frightened when the men looked her in the eyes once again.

"You'll pay for that, Mrs. Kent," the reverend said in an almost unrecognizable tone. "Mark my words. No one in this church overrides my authority. NO ONE!"

"I'd love to see you try," Martha said as she glared at the man. "You can't keep my husband and son here forever. We'll escape you, whatever it…"

Martha was stopped cold as she felt a surge of electricity course through her body. When she collapsed on the floor, she tried to look around to find out what caused the shock, but nothing was to be found. Martha tried to move her extremities, but they were not agreeing. She feared herself paralyzed as she looked up at the smiling man that was turning a very large ring around his right pinkie.

"Not so defiant now, are we?" he laughed in one of the most evil voices that Mrs. Kent had ever heard.


	8. The Talk

A/N: In response to KOSMOSemulator's review, as well as a couple others, no I do NOT think that all church leaders are evil. Church leaders are sinners just like everybody else, but many are very good and sincere people despite what the media says. Churches are supposed to be good and kind places and all of the churches I've been to have been that way. Being a born-again Christian, I could never say that the church as a whole is bad, even though there are a lot of individual churches that have very questionable practices. This place I'm describing is not actually a real God-fearing church, and in this chapter you'll find out why. Sorry if I've given a questionable impression, but I'm very intrigued with cults that imitate Christianity and you're always told to "write what you know" and this is what I know. Forgive me if I'm getting a little too spiritual, but I wanted to make sure people knew where I stood.

A/N/2: Unfortunately, this is going to be the last "quickie update", but I will have another chapter up very soon!

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Oh Aelora, it was awful," Clark said through his tears as he held the girl tighter then he had ever held anybody.

Aelora continued to comfort the boy by stroking his head and telling him that he was safe now.

"No I'm not," Clark said. "They're going to come back. They're going to do it again."

"Y…You're right. They are. But you have to remember that…"

"No. You don't understand! They treated me like I was a demon or something. They beat me…and…and they made me…they took away my sight…how could dad do that? He loved me! He said he did. I was his son! He helped me so much I…I guess that was all just a lie. They only took me in 'cause they couldn't have any children…"

"Clark! No! Your father doesn't believe that nor will he ever."

"I wish that were true," Clark muttered as he slid himself out of Aelora's embrace and lay on the ground with his head on her lap. "You didn't see him. He was so angry. I had no idea that he hated me that much."

"Clark," Aelora said. "Do you wonder why the reverend refused to let your father torture you himself?"

Clark's blank eyes became wide as he asked, "How did you know…?"

"He never lets them, Clark. They can never bring themselves to actually inflict physical harm on their loved ones. That's a flaw in Rev. Jim's spell."

"Spell?"

"He can make people his willing drones by causing the darkest desires of their heart to come out. It's a dark power that overtakes a weak soul and forces them to take on what is buried deep in their heart, and Rev. Jim uses it to make his victims believe what he wants them to believe. Think of it as brainwashing with a supernatural twist."

Clark was stunned at this, "How does he do that?"

"He can actually see into these dark reaches of the heart and see what these things are. He then says the exact right thing so that their dark desires can be carried out to fulfill his wishes once the initial mind-melding is complete."

"So he's a psychic?"

"Yeah, technically."

"Aren't psychics evil according to the church?"

"They are evil, which is why he doesn't tell anybody about his 'special gift'."

"How did he…is he a meteor freak?"

"I wish, since that would make him slightly redeemable. He got his power from some weird place in the Caribbean. I don't know exactly where or exactly how, but it was before he adopted me and it changed the way he ran his congregation, and his family. So far, only extremely strong souls have been able to resist him, and those people are often killed."

"If that's true, then...wait…my parents are the strongest people I…"

"Strong will doesn't necessarily mean a strong soul."

"But wait. You said that all of these desires come from inside them. Did…did my father really have these feelings all along?"

"Yes, but…"

"I knew it! I…"

"Clark! Let me finish! They were buried by your father. Everyone has feelings that they don't want to have, but if they are buried that means those feelings are not part of their actual psyche. If he had never buried those feelings, he'd be a completely different person; the man he is now."

"I…still don't understand." Clark sighed.

"I can't expect you to. Not many of the victims do, and it leads to their undoing. However, I want you to know that this spell has nothing to do with your parent's real feelings. They were kept from helping you in those first minutes after your capture because they had very deep desires to stay put. They would have never carried it out until the reverend made them. You would never had used your heat vision on that piece of paper had he not made the deep desire of demonstrating your power to the world come to pass."

Clark was coming to understand this a little better now, but he was disturbed by the fact that the reverend could do this to anyone he cared about. "Are there people who have overcome it?"

Aelora seemed a little distracted before she said, "I've heard of one, and apparently she was helped by true love for her child."

"Well, I guess my parents don't have true love for me then," Clark said as he sighed, trying to hold back the oncoming tears.

"You're wrong, Clark," said a voice that was clearly not Aelora. Clark perked up and lifted himself onto a sitting position before feeling familiar hands on his shoulders.

"M…mom?" Clark trembled.

"Yes, it's me honey," Martha held her son close to her as she began to weep. "I've missed you so much."

Clark tried to be brave in front of his mother, even though all he wanted to do was lie in her lap and be rocked back and forth. He didn't care if he was too big or too old to be comforted like that, he wanted a way to feel like he was safe.

Clark's happiness began to overtake his senses and he couldn't help but ask the first thing that came to his mind. "How…how did you…get here?"

Martha wiped her eyes and said, "Aelora's sister slipped me through a passageway. The reverend tried to get me to come over to his side and I didn't give in. He left me alone and electrocuted in the cell, intending to come back and kill me, and then Kimberly snuck me out and explained everything."

"Kimberly?" Clark said.

"See, I'm not the only one in this church who thinks that my dad needs psychological help," Aelora laughed, now on her feet, watching the pair at a distance.

Clark laughed as his mother took his head in her hands and tried to get a good look at him. "Oh god, what did they do to you?"

"I…don't," Clark said as he reached out his hand and tried to feel his mother's skin. The feel of it was always the thing that comforted him as a child, even though it hadn't in so long. Martha noticed how her son didn't look directly at her and how his eyes were of a different coloration than before.

"They made you blind, didn't they, Clark?"

Clark gulped and then nodded.

"Oh Clark! How could they…? How could anyone be that cruel?"

"I don't know," Clark said in monotone as he rested his head on his mother's chest. "I just…it's not dad's fault."

"Dad?" asked Martha shocked. "Did your father do this to you?"

"Yes…no…I don't know. I mean it was him that…oh what did you tell me Aelora? It's all jumbled."

"What is?" Aelora asked. "What I just told you? How could you possibly forget? It's been ten minutes."

"I know I just…I can't remember it."

Aelora was silent for a couple seconds before she muttered, "Oh no, not this. He didn't."

"Didn't what?" Martha asked with great concern.

It was right then that the group heard a group of ominous footsteps clapping outside. As soon as the sound entered Clark's enhanced ears, his shivers increased, and Martha noticed it.

"They're coming back," Aelora said.

"Oh no," Clark said as his bliss waned and his shivering gave way to full-on trembling. "Mom, you have to do something! I can't go back there, I just can't! You have to…to…help somehow."

Martha was shocked at Clark's reversion to five years of age, but with all that he had been through, any type of protection would be very welcome. She knew that no matter how old anybody got, their mother would always be the ideal protection for any situation.

"I will, Clark. I promise."

It was right when she said those words that the iron door opened to reveal Jonathan, the reverend, and a couple other people standing in the door way. She could feel the tension in the room as soon as they looked into the woman's eyes. As Jonathan stepped to the forefront of the group, Martha crawled in front of her wounded son.

"Martha? How did you…?"

"I'm not going to let you hurt our son anymore! I know you're in there Jonathan, please tell them to stop!"

"Clearly you didn't listen to me the first time when I spoke to you!" Jonathan shouted. "You're clearly not fulfilling your duties as a wife and listening to me. You should be taught a lesson."

"Jonathan," Martha trembled as she slowly stood up, not noticing the pain in her ankle. "You sound like a bad actor in a cheesy cowboy movie. This is obviously not you talking."

Clark couldn't help but smile at his mother's rarely used talent for wit, but he also wondered about why these people didn't seem to be reacting to Aelora, who obviously didn't have enough time to leave without anyone noticing.

"You'll pay for that Martha Kent!" the reverend shouted. "You are protecting…"

"If you say unholy demon you're going to lose an eye, or maybe a kidney, whatever's more convenient. This is my son, and I don't care where he came from. I love him more than I could love anything. He is not a demon, an alien, or a monster as you people would suggest. He has a more pure soul than any of you will ever have. In my eyes, reverend, you are the unholy demon!"

Clark heard Rev. Jim grunting and he couldn't be happier. In his mind this might be over. His mother would help him escape as she psyched out this evil man. Then, her and Aelora would take him out of this horrible place and he would be able to get his powers back from the glorious sun. Clark then started to imagine how incredible the sun would feel right about now. Its amazing beams warming him and giving his muscles body and strength. All of this seemed within reach, until…

BANG!

Clark felt his mother's body fall back like a thud onto his own. He crawled out from under and franticly felt around the ground to find Martha's face. When he did, he used his trembling hands to feel around her body to see if his worst fears had come true. He scrambled his fingertips around her torso and found a warm wetness around the area. Clark lifted his hand and moved his thumb around his fingers. The warmth and thickness of the liquid made him know it was blood. He was using his other hand to feel around his mother some more, until he felt the bullet hole.

"MOM!" Clark shouted as he realized that his mother was in grave danger. He began shift his fingers to her face once more. "Wake up! Please! Mom! I love you so much! You mean the world to me! Don't leave me! Don't leave me like this…Please…Mommy…" Clark was exhausting his remaining strength crying to his wounded mother, and his volume began to fade along with his hope. As his head fell forward on his mother's neck from pure anguish, the familiar scenario of two strong goons grabbing him by the shoulders took place.

Clark did little to resist it, as usual. Only this time, it was not because of weakness or unconsciousness. He felt that there was no use and that this evil man that called himself a reverend was definitely going to kill him. This was the end of the line. The only person on his side had been killed, never to return to his side again. Now he almost wished that this woman would have been torturing him, at least then he would be close to her and feel her matronly presence. That was all gone now. The two minutes he spent with her were now pure anguish in his mind because they had given him hope. Hope was now another torture tool. The more hope he had, the more he would be disappointed when the light at the end of the tunnel dimmed to darkness. His father was…his father…What did Aelora say again? Did she say he was under a spell? No, it couldn't be. That's impossible. Even if he was under some influence other than himself, then there was no plausible way to come out from under it. Clark wished that he would just drop dead right there so that what awaited him would never come. At least in that scenario he would be with his mother.

As Clark groaned and cried, Jonathan and Rev. Jim looked on as he was dragged out the door of the cell.

"We can't bring him back here," the reverend chimed. "We can't risk him being aided in here, which is what I suspect is happening. I don't know whose doing it, and frankly I don't care. We have to change the plans and have continuous tor…punishment for him until his death."

"I see," Jonathan said as he looked toward the bleeding woman lying in the middle of the floor. Her face was wet with fresh tears and her groans of pain echoed throughout the walls like the weeping mothers at all of those military funerals you see on TV. However, these groans drew much closer to home. This was the woman whom he had given his life to, whom he had loved, whom helped him raise Clark all of these years. "Are you sure that we should leave her here all alone?" Jonathan asked, reluctantly.

The reverend, looking concerned, grabbed Jonathan's arm and said, "This is the woman who disobeyed you Jonathan. She would not believe you about Clark. If she had her way, then the boy would already be conquering us all."

"Yes, but…"

"Besides, she has Steven here to keep her company." He said as he pointed to the man still drawing on the wall. "We must get back to the task at hand my brother. This should be an exciting day for you. You are finally going to see justice done in your life."

Jonathan sighed and nodded as Rev. Jim led him out of the room.


	9. The Beginning

"Clark," Jonathan said to his shirtless son whom lay on a cold floor curled up in a ball. He was not even a fraction of his former self, and Clark never felt more ashamed. He felt weak and humiliated in front of these people, and his worth was non-existent. His hands were folded through each other as he stroked them against his mouth slowly so that he could get the taste and feel of his mother. It was mostly her blood that was on his fingers, but he wanted to get the last whiff so that he could at least feel like there was someone who believed him; that there was someone who cared, even if her life was ripped away from her.

"Did you kill her?" Clark muttered to Jonathan in a barely audible tone. His eyes were open as if they hadn't blinked in days and his body continued to shiver. His condition only brought whispers of mocking from the small crowd around him.

"You mean did I shoot Martha? My wife? The woman whom you turned against me!" Jonathan shouted.

Clark's shivering got worse and he curled further in. The voice that came out of his father's mouth was frightening to him as a child, but even in his mature age it still struck a chord in him.

"No, I didn't shoot her, Rev. Jim did. Let me just say that I hope you're happy Clark!"

"What? I…" Clark was speechless. Was he responsible for Martha's demise? Of course he was. He was the reason he was in that room in the first place.

"Calm yourself, Jonathan. What had to be done was done. Now we are going to let our young Clark meet a few people whom he has hurt."

"Hurt?" Clark whimpered. "I've never hurt anybody."

Although he couldn't see it, Clark felt the chills caused by Rev. Jim circling him as he glared down at the boy. The reverend was looking at his bruised back as well as his thinning stature caused by the Kryptonite upstairs, and he smiled. Rev. Jim was proud of himself at what he had done. He had wrangled the most powerful being on the face of the Earth. He really was the most powerful man in the entire worldwide church. Forget working for God, he _was_ God.

"You are about to meet a man named Marvin," Rev. Jim said as he stroked his chin and continued to pace. "He is a Smallville native, and he lived there with his family until the meteor shower, when…well, he'll tell you the rest."

The reverend was finally moving away, but Clark felt someone else coming toward him, and very quickly. He then felt what he thought was a belt coming across his back as a man breathing hard though his teeth .

"You!" he shouted as he hit Clark again before he stooped down and grabbed him by the hair. As he looked in Clark's blank eyes, Clark could smell the whisky on his breath and the heat coming off of him as if he was the angriest person alive. Despite his instincts to cower again, something inside him, the thing he had been ignoring since the first beating, told him to try and talk to this man.

"Who are you?"

"Marvin. Marvin Rinker," the man said with a raspy tone. "Don't you remember me, Clark?"

His questioning reminded Clark of himself when he was on silver kryptonite. This fact not only brought back bad memories, but a horrible feeling in his sick gut.

"You…you went…to school with my dad." The boy muttered.

"That's right boy! I watched you grow up all those years, envying the Kents for gaining a son during that horrible tragedy. That jealousy gave me so much grief, but I had no idea how much you were the reason for all of my misery. Of course, you knew my misery, right Clark?"

"I…I don't…"

"My son, you idiot! My only son. He died in the meteor shower that you came in! He was only five! He was too young to die! I really hope you're proud of yourself, you monster!"

His pain seemed to radiate more than his anger, which helped Clark was able to break through his fear and have compassion on him. "I'm sorry," Clark panted. "I know…what it's like…to lose…someone close…"

Marvin then threw the boys head back down to the ground. The belt then returned to his back and this time with more force than before.

"Rev. Jim said that you would use phony pity on me. It's taking everything I am to not choke you to death right now, but I know that this is the way it was done."

"What was done?" Clark breathed as the belt returned three more times.

Clark felt the belt and knew that his words were doing no good. A man he couldn't even see was intending to kill him, and there was nothing he could do about it. He then gave back into the cowardly urges and frantically began to crawl away from the danger, but he only felt more scared by doing that. Every time he stumbled, the group in the room laughed at him and hurled insults. No matter how much he moved around, he always felt the sting on his back from this man hitting him. However, as he continued, he eventually felt a shoe with his fingers that had a familiar scent; that of his family farm. The shoe belonged to his father.

"D…d…dad?" Clark stuttered.

Jonathan kicked his hand away and said, "Get away from me and don't call me that!"

Clark's pain was at its greatest in this moment, and he had so much to say to his father right now, but only one thought came to mind.

"Dad…please…help…m…mom. She's going to die."

Jonathan's insides began to churn as he heard those words. Why isn't he groveling for himself? Why is he asking for another's protection over his own? He was always like that as a child, but that was a façade. The reverend said so. Jonathan was so confused. His head was spinning around in circles as his emotions started to turn toward this young man seeking his protection. Fatherly instincts that he had formerly tried to dispel were attempting to make their way back to him as he watched Clark crawl away from him and the oncoming madman.

"Stop!" Marvin shouted as he beat him on the back once again. "Stop groveling as if you are a child! No one has compassion on you! Don't you know that?"

"Marvin!" Jonathan shouted as he stepped in front of the man. "I think that he has had enough of you."

Marvin looked at Jonathan with a confused and angry look on his face

"Jonathan," Rev. Jim said as he walked over to the man and touched his shoulder. "What are you doing?"

Jonathan gulped as he looked at the floor and claimed that he didn't know where the urge to speak came from. He felt his chest and gulped once more as he shook his head. Jonathan tried to get his previous thoughts out of his head. This boy had to have been faking it. There was no other way.

"Well, I figure that Marvin's done anyway," the reverend said as he glared at Jonathan. "I think that Mr. Kent should help you prepare the other room for Clark's arrival." The reverend then stared at the man and tilted his head toward a small door in the back. Jonathan felt a feeling of shame in his heart as he went into the room. The reverend then grabbed the angry farmer's arm and let him out through that same door.

The grunting man was led away reluctantly and Clark rubbed his sore hand that was kicked by his father's shoe. Clark lay on the floor with his back down so that the ice-cold temperature of the concrete would make the intense stinging go away. As he lay there, he remembered the Fortress of Solitude and how cold it was, and yet at the same time had a homey feeling to it. Clark attempted to imagine himself lying on one of the icy surfaces, admiring the beautiful crystal ceiling and forgetting all of his problems. Then, all of a sudden, a thought came into his head. What would it have been like if Krypton had never been destroyed? Would there be people who were killing him now?

However, his thoughts were short-lived. One by one, men and women came in to give Clark a piece of their minds, and their sticks. Clark recognized some of them from his childhood, even though they had moved away before he went to junior high. He heard Francis Hobe who lost her husband from krypto-jitters, Rita Baxter who had her son burned to death during a meteor impact, Charley Gorta who had his home and brood of five blown away from a blast, and finally Lily Echolls who lost her best friend in a meteor-related car crash.

Each of these people had worse torture than the previous, both from their whipping devices and their stories. As Clark heard all of these people whom had lost people in the meteor shower, the at-home feeling of his imaginary Fortress of Solitude left him and the guilt of what happened all of those years ago returned. Clark had tried to keep those feelings buried for years since it was impossible for him to control things like that, but for some reason, the feelings resurfaced. Clark had always dreaded people finding out his secret and doing this exact thing to him, and now his worst fears were coming true.

After the final venge-seeker was finally led into the same room as had all of her predecessors, the reverend continued his predatory circling of Clark. Now he was in even worse shape than before, with welts developing on his back and compassionate feelings wearing thin. No matter what Clark said to these people, it would be to no avail. This certainly put a dent in his philosophy that compassion changed people's hearts for the better.

"Clark," Rev. Jim said as he circled closer to the boy. "Before we continue with this, I figured that I should let you in on something. It has always been my philosophy that there are a lot of bad people in this world, you being the worst. However, none of them went through an incredibly painful death like Jesus Christ went through, and he is probably the most perfect human being of them all. They all usually die like kings in their palaces, surrounded by the best doctors. That is the exact type of death that Jesus deserved, and yet he had to endure the cross. So I came up with an excellent idea, I vowed that I would get everyone in my power who deserved a crucifixion and give them a taste of what they should be getting. I think that everybody who deserves a crucifixion, should get one so that the death of our Lord could be truly avenged. And in the process, they would get a little taste of the sacrifice people like had been stomping all over."

Clark began to shake and shiver at the reverend's words. Was he actually saying that Clark was going through a Biblical scenario? Of course. Why hadn't he seen it before? The humiliation, the beating, the betrayal of his closest confidant. It was all coming together, and it was common knowledge where these things led to. This was one part of Aelora's encouragement that he did remember. She was explaining what happened to Steven and…oh no, Steven. Was he going to end up like that? Was he going to end up at all? As more people led Clark off into the next room, Clark braced himself for the most painful experience he would probably ever go through in his entire life, if his life lasted much longer.


	10. The Father

"AAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRgggggghhhhhhh!" Clark cried in anguish as Rev. Jim now took the liberty of giving him new beatings. This time it was with a very long whip. There were certain sounds coming in all around him and Clark was very sure that they were mostly made up of the anxious crowd of bloodthirsty venge-seekers..

"Clark, these beatings are making you angry aren't they?"

_Crack_

"It's no use trying to hide it anymore. We are all onto your game, like we've been from the beginning."

_Crack_

"Yet you think that we will still be fooled by your phony compassion. If your father we not helping prepare your final ordeal, I'm sure he would say the same thing. What kind of an idiot are you?"

"The…compassion's not…phony," Clark managed through the pain. "These…people…are…"

_Crack_

The crowd's laughter through Clark's pain-filled cries made the boy more tensed that he would normally be.

"Who are you kidding?" Rev. Jim laughed. "Who has nothing but hate for people who are torturing them? Nobody that's who! I think that's it's about time that you started telling us how you really feel."

_Crack_

"I…I…" Clark muttered after his latest scream.

_Crack!_

"Say it Clark! You know you want to! Just tell us what has been bubbling inside you for all these years!"

"I…HATE YOU ALL!" Clark cried as he got hit once again. Clark started to cry as he continued to shout. "How could you…all do this to…me! You humans…I hate you…all you want is…blood and…"

_Crack_

Clark was stunned at what came out of his mouth, however, he knew that these feelings had been welling up inside him for some time, and he didn't need very much force to drive them out. But Clark never said things like that. He didn't hate anybody. How could he do that? These people were hurting and it was all because of him and his meteor shower. The boy heard one more crack of the whip before he heard something else.

"Clark?"

"Aelora!"

"Hush, keep your voice down." Aelora whispered as she put her finger over Clark's trembling lips.

"W…where are we? I d-d-don't hear t-them anymore."

"They put you in a metal room with no doors but the one that's locked ten times over," Aelora said quickly as she stroked Clark's hair. "They put you in here after you were whipped in the head and knocked out. They wanted you to be awake for the next event, but they didn't want anyone like me getting to you."

It was hard for Clark to listen to his friend when his shivers were getting louder. He was trying to block out the memories that he could almost physically hear of all of the horrible people blaming him for the meteor shower or the horrible crack of the reverend's whip. His father's voice wasn't exactly silent either.

"Clark, are you listening to me?" Aelora called out to him. When he didn't respond, she tried to shake him.

"NO STOP!" Clark said as he began to panic.

Aelora grabbed his wrists to try and calm him down. "Clark, stop! You have to fight it!"

"Fight what!" Clark said as he began to cry. "My father! These goons all over the place! I can't fight them! They're right about everything. I have to take it."

"Clark, I have told you a hundred times that they were under the influence of the reverend. You have to fight his spell that makes you forget."

"Forget what?"

"Everything I've told you!"

"What did you tell me?"

"See what I mean?" Aelora said as she grabbed Clark's face. "The reverend knows that I do this. That's why he developed another spell to give his victims temporary short-term memory loss that filters in bad stuff and filters out good stuff."

"That's…what?"

Aelora shook her head and realized that these either these people had seriously damaged Clark's mental health, or he was intentionally not listening to her.

"Clark Kent, are you even listening to me?"

Clark's eyes began to glisten as he sighed and said, "There are other things on my mind right now, like LIVING. Or getting crucified! That's what's going to happen to me, right? I mean, it happened to Stephen, it happened to all of those other people you talked about. He's…I'm gonna die. Oh God Aelora, I'm gonna die."

"Clark, what have I told you about not cursing? And you seem to only remember what I told you about that, but you don't seem to recall that there is hope. Only One needed to go through this horrible thing, you shouldn't have to."

"W…what?" Clark shivered about hearing this glimmer of hope.

"Mar…The reverend is an idiot. Whatever's inside of him keeps wanting to redo that horrible death over and over so that it's degraded. However, there's only a limited amount of times that he's going to be allowed to do that before the One who actually went through it gets a little annoyed. In fact, I think He's been annoyed from day one. Soon it will be stopped, and you are the most likely candidate for the victim to be saved, even though I can't be sure."

"What are you…talking about? That makes no sense. Didn't that whole thing happen…two-thousand years ago?"

Aelora sighed and patted the boy on the shoulder. "That doesn't make any difference, but I don't think that you're in any condition to understand the whole situation now, especially since you gave in to the reverend and expressed the worst feeling that you could ever feel toward anybody."

"What? Hate?" Clark said in a nervous tone. "I don't…hate anybody Aelora…I just…"

"You're lying," Aelora interrupted. "These people are treating your compassion like garbage and using every little fear you have against you."

"Are you…trying to…make me hate them?"

"I'm trying to make you realize that it doesn't take a spell to make you have real feelings of hate for these people."

"I can't…help it Aelora…I don't want to…hate them…I just…"

"Clark, the minute that you give into that feeling is when Rev. Jim wins. You have to keep on trying to have good feelings…"

"How Aelora?" Clark interrupted.

"You already know how. You've been doing it for years toward people who didn't deserve it. You just have to teach yourself how to again. You can start by forgiving your father."

Clark's eyes widened while he just sat silently and thought about that. Forgive his father? What was he supposed to say to that? He had tried to get Jonathan's attention since this first started, but to no avail. He thought he heard his father almost defend him, but he wasn't even sure that was real. His father helped make him blind and probably smiled while doing it.

"Well?" Aelora said, a little worried at the boy's silence.

"I don't know," Clark said as he was about to cry. "He didn't even…flinch when mom was…shot…he…wait…Mom! How is mom? I completely forgot about her! How could I?"

"Clark, you're changing the subject."

"What happened to my mom! Did she die? She can't die!"

"Clark I…"

Clark then heard a commotion at the door as the locks were being opened. Clark's heart began to beat as Aelora got up from underneath the boy.

"Aelora…how did…you get in here? Maybe you can help me escape."

No response. Clark felt around him and found that the woman was gone. He was alone, and they were coming for him.

XXX

Clark was dragged into a room that felt so much bigger and dryer than the other rooms that he was in before. He also heard all of the voices around him echoing, like the room had a high ceiling. Clark figured that he was in the sanctuary of the church, the place they were in before they fell into the basement. What Clark didn't see was that all of the pews had been folded into the ground so that there was now flat ground. There was also a pulley system getting ready to lower the cross that had been on the wall to the ground.

"Clark," the reverend said as he walked beside the ailing boy as he was led toward the center of the expansive sanctuary. "I figured that you have seen enough of the humiliation, even though I think that you deserve more. However, I wouldn't want you to die before the best part, because that would be a shame."

"I'm guessing…the best part is...me on a cross…or something…" Clark breathed. He tried to fight and remember Aelora's words that would give hope. Clark wanted more than anything to be able to escape this horrible thing, but as he heard people in the background preparing for something big, he couldn't help but think that this would happen.

"Too bad that incredible brain is used for such horrible thoughts," Rev. Jim said. He then grabbed Clark by the back of his neck and said, "Nothing would make me happier than to see your mouth breathe its last breath. I have waited years for this day, my boy. My entire congregation has, too."

"You…forced them…to," Clark muttered.

The reverend then ordered his people to stop leading Clark and said, "You are not a boy who should be insulting the people of a reverend."

"You're not…a reverend. I'm not even…sure you're human." Clark was beginning to speak with conviction and fewer pauses despite the fact that he was still in a great amount of pain.

Rev. Jim then slapped him on the already tender cheek right before put Clark's chin in between his tight fingertips.

"You should not talk about humanity, boy. You are not nor will ever be somebody human. You are just a cancer that was put on this Earth so that the rest of us could suffer. I believe I have told you that and yet you do not seem to be with me."

"Screw you," Clark whispered through his broken spirit. It seemed that no matter how many times he heard that the reverend's words had no merit, they always seemed to sting. Clark didn't have any problem with expressing hate toward this man.

Rev. Jim couldn't seem to contain his pleasure in his eyes as he said, "I have a feeling that you might want to say that to someone else more than me."

Clark couldn't see them, but he knew that the glaring eyes of his father were there right in front of him. He was absent for the previous beating, but now he was here and snapped out of his semi-defense of his son. Jonathan seemed to be breathing hard as if he got enraged just looking at this boy. Clark took this into consideration as he stood there, slumped over and doubling over with pain. He could only think of one thing to tell his dad.

"Well," Jonathan said. "Don't you have some choice words for me?"

"I…do," Clark stuttered as he tried to get his bearings and stood up straight against all of the pain in his back. He breathed in as the words began to come to him. He thought of all of the things that had happened up until now, and how it would most likely be all over in a few minutes. All he wanted to do was give his father what he deserved the most.

"Dad…I just want…you to know, that...I…don't…hold any of this…against you, even if these thoughts…were in your heart. You didn't want to have them…I know it. I want you to know…that…I love you. No matter what…you do to me…no matter how much you tell me you hate me…I love you, and that will…never change."

Clark wanted to say more, but one of the minions slapped him in the face. It would not normally be a very hard blow, but Clark was so weak that he fell to the ground and let out a huge moan.

"It's funny how the attitude changes when you're about to die!" the reverend called out, sounding a little nervous. He then told his men to take Clark away.

However, as the people dragged Clark away, Jonathan felt a tug on his heart that he couldn't ignore. He started to massage his head and wonder why these feelings were coming back. He was awakened, which meant they couldn't come back. He couldn't love this boy, but at the same time, Jonathan felt that he was more deserving of this love than anyone. This boy forgave him when he forced him to run away, as well as when he made the deal with Jor-el. Clark loved him through all of the squabbles they had through the years, and always told him so after they were over. These memories seemed to contradict the one or two that made him think of Clark as an unholy demon.

Jonathan's insides felt like they were at war as he tried to fight all of the coming emotions that obviously belonged to his old self. He then felt a single tear roll down his cheek and wiped it away. Something deep inside him was crying, and it was sincere. Jonathan couldn't take it anymore. He wasn't strong enough to fight these feelings, however, once he gave in, he wondered why he felt they were foreign.

"Clark," Jonathan whispered to himself through his oncoming tears. For the first time in a long time, he saw the son whom he loved more than his own life being dragged away toward a cross that was being lowered. He saw him stripped down and scarred up horribly. He looked weak, frail, and frightened. A surge of anger then welled up in Jonathan's heart, at what had happened to him. It broke through any further inhibitions that kept him from being himself and he stood up straight let his eyes empty onto his cheeks. However, sobs did not go along with the tears, mostly because he had a new conviction. He didn't have any room for thoughts of guilt or sorrow that would inevitably come later, he only had one thing on his mind. He got up all of his courage and shouted through his teeth, "Leave my son alone!"


	11. The Cross

Everything seemed still at that moment. The only sound that came from the room around him was the soft breathing of the eighteen people around the room, and the hard breathing of an angry Rev. Jim.

"What…are…you…talking…about…Jonathan?" the reverend said through his teeth as his face turned scarlet red.

Jonathan took a very deep breath as he looked at the hopeful expression of his son.

"You know what I mean, Reverend," the farmer said, teeth still clenched. "Let my boy go!"

A small smile appeared on Clark's lips while Rev. Jim's face turned into a scowl. He then put his fingers to the large ring on his pinkie before Jonathan felt a huge jolt of electricity surge through his body.

"Dad!" Clark shouted as he heard his father shout and hit the ground with a thud. The boy wanted to help, but his body wasn't in the condition to move away from the minions holding him. All he could do was hang his head and accept this last hope as a failure. He would have been more upset if he wasn't used to it.

Rev. Jim then pointed his finger toward the moaning farmer. Two men then proceeded to grab him by the arms and drag him toward the wall of the church. They used old ropes to tie him to one of the rings that was designed to hold a velvet rope before abandoning him for the reverend's side.

"I had a feeling that would happen," the reverend said with a sigh. He then looked around at the congregation surrounding him. They were silent, as was the trembling boy that they were looking to execute.

"What are you waiting for!" Rev. Jim shouted. "Get everything ready!"

Clark gulped as his holders continued to lead his weak form toward the front of the church where there was a red carpet covering a platform where the pulpit and choir rows resided. The brown cross continued to be lowered using a pulley that was attached to the ceiling.

The cross was carefully placed flat on the ground as the large group of minions threw Clark down on the floor. When they then grabbed him by the wrists, he started to struggle. He knew that the struggling wouldn't get him anywhere, but he justifiably did not want to go through this. His breaths began to speed up and his heart began to race as he was dragged onto the cross that seemed painted over recently. It had obviously been used as an instrument of execution before.

As his back began to burn from the wood he was being slid across, Clark felt the presence of the stained glass windows and heard the squealing that usually accompanied glowing kryptonite. The noise seemed to pulse with Clark's racing heart beat, injecting his body with more pain every second. It became worse as his arms were pulled straight out and tied to the horizontal beam of the cross. As Clark moaned from his agony, long nails as thick as a pencil were taken out of a small wooden box held by Rev. Jim. When he took them out, the effect of kryptonite doubled and the pain made Clark even weaker.

Clark was far too weak to scream or struggle any further for his life. All he could do was express his fear through whimpering. This made the two men closest to him laugh; the reverend, and the man clad with black clothing with a hammer in his hand. He was kneeling on one knee and had calloused hands from past executions.

"P...p…lease," Clark said as he turned his face toward where he figured his executioner was. His eyes glistened as he started to plead. "Please…don't do this. You…don't…want to do this."

The hammer-holder's scowl didn't go away and he simply growled. Clark continued to look at him with eyes pleading for mercy for from this horrible fate that he didn't deserve.

"W-w-what…is your…name?" Clark asked in a soft voice.

The boy took one of the nails in his hand and raised his eyebrows at Clark. He then put the point of the nail right in between the bones of Clark's wrist and held it there with the tips of his fingers.

When Clark felt the nail be put in place, his heart sped up even more. The boy began to wonder if it was possible for a heart to explode from anxiety as he shut his eyes and gritted his teeth in anticipation for the…

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH"

When the first pound came down, it felt like a bomb went off right on top of Clark's arm. It caused him to let out a wail that made the people around him shudder where they stood. Even the boy with the hammer almost fell back from his work as he wiped his bloody hands on the floor before continuing.Clark screamed even more as the hammer drove the nail further into his skin.

As this was happening, Jonathan tried to get himself on his feet after the ring shocked his system so badly. Every time he heard a pound, Jonathan's heart skipped a beat as to what Clark must be going through. Jonathan saw Clark's hand tense and forming the shape of a claw as it shook. He could only imagine the pain his boy now had to endure.

Jonathan's head was very groggy from the blow to his forehead and his wrists were beginning to burn from the old ropes. He felt so helpless and exhausted as he watched all hope drain away. The man didn't even notice that the ropes that tied him to the beam were becoming looser as if someone behind him was untying them.

All of a sudden, Jonathan was grabbed by the shoulder and firm hand was placed over his mouth. He was then pulled across the wall before he finally focused his eyes and recognized the face over him.

"Martha?" Jonathan breathed out.

Martha, with a very blank look on her face, put a finger over her mouth so that Jonathan would stay quiet. Jonathan just looked at his wife as she was clad in an old T-shirt and sweat pants. She also had oily hair and cuts all over her body from the vast amount of beatings she had endured since her stay here. However, the main thing that Jonathan noticed was her eyes. They looked angry and pained as they watched Clark enduring horrible pain. It looked as if she was eager to drag him away right now, but she knew a better way and had to restrain herself.

"I have a plan to get Clark out of this," Martha whispered into her husband's ear with a forced calm in her voice.

"Martha, how…?"

"I'll create a distraction, while you get Clark off that…thing…that…" Martha was beginning to choke up as she put her hand over her mouth.

"Martha…I…"

"Jonathan, just do this, okay?" Martha demanded. She then looked over to Clark once again before dropping her husband and hopping onto her feet.

"But Martha, how did you…?"

"Jonathan! I'll explain everything later, but we have to save our son!"

Before Jonathan could even respond, Martha grabbed a piece of scrap wood lying against the wall and ran out into the sanctuary. From that point on, everything seemed to happen in a split second. Martha ran over to the boy who was now pounding the second nail and hit him over the head with her wood. She then did the same thing to the reverend, only this time in the crotch. Jonathan panned his head over to the other side of the room where the very attractive girl that they met earlier was getting the crowd upset through a speech that Jonathan couldn't make out through the fog in his head.

Before long, the entire church was in chaos as the members of the congregation were scattering all over the place due to panic. The reverend was eventually in the middle of his panicked flock, unable to migrate toward his injured prey.

After a few minutes, Martha met up with the young girl that got the crowd riled up. They had a very brief conversation before Martha looked to Jonathan and made a hand motion for toward Clark.

Jonathan recognized the signal and scrambled over to his son. He grabbed the hammer out of the unconscious executioner's hand and used the spiked end to pry the large nails out of Clark's arms.

"STOP! STOP PLEASE! IT HURTS!" Clark screamed in a hoarse tone as Jonathan pulled the first nail out. Jonathan tried not to listen because he knew that this was for Clark's own good. However, yet he couldn't help but shed some tears. Jonathan had read somewhere that having nails driven into your wrist right in between the bones gave you the equivalent feeling of your funny bone being ripped out of your elbow, so he tried to treat the task with as much tender loving care as possible.

"No!" shouted Rev Jim as he finally broke away from the chaos and grabbed Jonathan by the shirt collar. Jonathan already got the last nail out, but he was still determined to stay by his son's side. Rev. Jim ended up dragging the farmer away from the cross before punching him in the face. Jonathan then felt a huge jolt of electricity surge through him with the same intensity as before. This time, however, his adrenaline seemed to keep it from becoming a handicap.

He huffed before he regained his composure and tackled the reverend to the ground. Rev. Jim then put his ring to Jonathan's arm, and the farmer felt a jolt that tossed him off of the reverend's body.

"Why don't you fight me yourself, you coward!" Jonathan shouted as he got on his knees and grabbed the man by the back of his shirt before throwing him on the ground.

The reverend then looked up at Jonathan with burning eyes and a sneer on his lip. He grabbed the farmer by the neck and held him down in the wooden floor. Jonathan tried to kick his legs up in the air, but his energy was quickly leaving him as his oxygen was cut off. Jonathan looked over at his son's frightened eyes. He was breathing hard from the pain, and looked more frightened then ever, most likely because of the chaos he was hearing. Jonathan's eyes began to tear up and let his body lie limp. This caused the reverend to smile once again and release his grip on the farmer's neck.

"No one calls me a coward!" Rev. Jim shouted with pride as he got up and turned toward Clark. He bent over and picked up the bloody spikes off the floor and gripped them in his hand. He then opened his hand to look at the failed death tools, and saw the red blood stained all over his hands.

"The blood of the devil is on my hands," the Rev. Jim growled as his grin grew larger. "Praise God."

"I don't know if you've noticed, but you failed in killing him," Jonathan huffed as he tried to catch his lost breath.

"Not yet," Rev Jim bellowed before he walked over and straddled the incapacitated boy lying on the cross. He then threw the nails across the room and grabbed Clark's forehead. Jonathan rubbed his head and tried to wake his body up as he witnessed something horrible take place. Clark let out a huge scream as every part of his body started to convulse. The reverend's head then shot back as he too let out a scream, all the while with his hand still gripping Clark's forehead. Jonathan became terrified as he tried to prop himself up on a post so that he could launch and hopefully get the reverend off Clark with a tackle.

However, that move was not necessary, since after a few minutes, the reverend fell off Clark like a rag doll. He then flopped down and lay as still as death. Clark was uncontrollably shaking as the blood continued to pour out of his new and old wounds. Jonathan was afraid to get near because he didn't know if he would make it worse once he came closer. Jonathan then saw Clark take a deep breath, and become still.

The farmer gulped and felt frozen in place as he looked at Clark's still form. He then crawled over slowly before attempting to put pressure on Clark's hands so that the heavy bleeding would stop.

Jonathan looked up and saw all of the calmed people who were scattered about begin to gather around this sight. Not knowing what to say, Jonathan looked up at them with pleading eyes.

"Oh God," Martha whispered as she pushed through the crowd. They seemed to move out of the way like a curtain as she scrambled toward her beautiful child. She knelt down to him for the first time in what seemed like an eternity and cupped his face in her hands. His face looked so serene and his skin so cold as she looked into the eyes of her baby boy. She was far too tired and emotionally drained to weep or become hysterical at the sight of her son near death, but she was certainly feeling all of the pain of the situation on the inside.

Jonathan didn't know how Martha survived. He didn't understand why she never tried to save Clark. However, he didn't care. His wife was alive. He now had a partner in the grief that he knew would be coming, even though he knew he would have to face his guilt alone.

"Baby," Martha said as she put her face close to Clark's. "We're going to get you out of here, okay? It's all over now. They're not going to hurt you anymore."

Jonathan gulped as a feeling of dread came over him. "Martha," he whispered. "I don't think he can hear…"

"I don't care what you think!" Martha snapped as she turned her wet face toward her husband. She then looked into his hurt eyes and immediately regretted her tone. She brought her face down to the ground as she realized that the man she married was the one that had returned by saving her son. She had to let the subconscious resentment go. As she started to apologize, she saw her husband look to the ground with true hurt reflected on his face. For the first time since he broke the spell, true guilt was birthing within him. He just looked away from his wife and looked at the crowd around him. They reminded the farmer more of a still-life painting than people.

"Please," he said as tears gargled his speech. "Help me. My son needs help."

They all just looked at the two in a very confused way, before their bodies migrated over to the catatonic reverend.

Martha just shook her head and touched her son's face. "They're not going to help us. Just ignore them."

Jonathan nodded as he continued putting pressure on the bleeding wrists. The warm blood continued to erupt out of the severed veins as Clark's skin grew white and cold.

"I was able to call for help, Jonathan." Martha said in a soft voice. "They should be here soon."

Jonathan smiled but that statement didn't help calm his body too much. His head seemed like it was spinning at miles per second. Seeing his son like this was like a horrible irony. Clark was the invincible one in the family. Even without his powers, it seemed like he didn't get hurt as often as somebody should when they are working on a farm.

"You have to get him outside," Martha said quickly, finally breaking the silence after clearing her grieving mind. "He has to be away from the kryptonite and get in the sun before he can heal."

Jonathan gulped and nodded. He readied himself before he grabbed his son by the elbows and dragged him toward the door on the side of the sanctuary, all the while wondering what kind of help Martha called.

XXX

Chloe Sullivan had seen her fair share of scares in her young life so far. All of the meteor freaks that had tried to take her life as well as the lives of her friends helped the blonde reporter develop quite a hard skin when it came to fear. In her current predicament, however, that skin she had developed might as well have been wax paper.

She had been trying to reach the Kent family, namely Clark, for over a week now and there had been no trace of them. She had tried calling them on every phone they owned as well as checking all over their farm for some clue as to where they might have gone. The farmhouse seemed like it had been professionally cleaned and the answering machine was blank. All the notepads in the house were also bare. Chloe was only running into dead ends, and it made her very concerned. It was not like the Kents to just up and leave without so much as evidence as to where they went. Something was going on, and someone seemed to be behind it. However, with no evidence to back up her case, there was nothing she could do, and it was killing her.

It was when Chloe had pretty much given up hope that she decided to bury herself in work while the police did their jobs. She was spending more time at the Daily Planet than was needed and her father was noticing that she was looking very pale. She had been pulling many all-nighters and she had almost fallen asleep at the wheel several times on her way home. Chloe's anxiety was always apparent because of her low mood and snippy attitude. The girl knew that that would get her nowhere, but it was all she could really feel right now as the fear of the unknown ate her up inside.

It was on one of these all-nighters that Chloe was jolted awake by a blip on her computer. She had fallen asleep at her Daily Planet desk and her coffee fix had not yet been met. It was no wonder that when she first saw the new e-mail message on her screen, she didn't pay much mind to it. She decided to take a glance and saw that the e-mail was an AOL account and the address was Chloe sighed because of the fact that it might be some nutty pastor recruiting people for a softball team or something. Chloe put her slender hand on the mouse about ready to delete the mail when something caught her eye and woke her up more than any cup of coffee ever would. The subject line read "Please Help Save Clark."


	12. The Threshold

Clark's eyes opened to something he didn't expect; sight. He felt his face to revel in this amazing feat, and he noticed that the only thing he felt when his fingers touched his cheeks was a tingling sensation. He then looked up and around him and realized that he was surrounded by white light. However, the light was not pure. There was an off-white tint and the light tended to flicker. Clark felt that if this was Heaven, it was not very impressive.

"Where am I?" Clark whispered to himself.

"The battleground of your soul, my boy!"

Startled, Clark whipped his head around to see whose raspy voice had called out to him. He was shocked to see Rev. Jim standing in the same grey suit and red tie that he was wearing when they first met, but his voice seemed altered.

"H-how did you get here?" Clark said, trembling.

"I think that this is a very impressive place that you have inside of you, Clark. I'm surprised that you are even allowed to have it, since you're not human and all."

Clark's emotions were bubbling up as never before as he listened to the continued taunts from this evil man. Clark didn't feel like he did when he was in a normal state. He felt that there was nothing holding his feelings back, as if he was on red kryptonite. Only in this situation, he felt that there were moral emotions inside him that drove him instead of bodily desire. It was the only thing that kept him from ripping this man to shreds. Clark was actually hoping for some red kryptonite about now because he wanted to tear this man apart limb from limb for what he did. However, he also felt sorry for the man. Clark didn't want to, but he felt compelled to pity the ignorance that he seemed to have.

"I don't even think that you know what this place is," the reverend continued. "It is a battleground of sorts located inside your soul where people like me fight other fools who want you to join them. However, it is up to you on who wins and who loses. You can give power to the army that you want on your side, I suggest me in this case."

"Why would I do that," Clark hissed through clenched teeth. "You humiliated me. You insulted me. You called me a demon!" At this point Clark was clenching his fists trying to control his anger. "Why would I want to give you anything!"

"My my," Rev. Jim said while running his hands through his hair. "Talk about holding a grudge. I know I might have done some bad things, but it was only to get you here, so that I could offer you amazing power."

"Like the power you have? The power to manipulate and control innocent people?"

Rev. Jim began to walk nearer to Clark with his hands behind his back before he continued with a fiery demeanor.

"Those people would have been nothing without me! They would've simply been hick farmers who beat their families and spend their nights consumed in the bottle. I'm doing them a favor."

"By taking away their freedom? No one has the right to do that."

"Oh poppycock, boy! I do no more controlling than the world around us. I don't see you berating all the television shows that attract teenagers by the millions and make a certain day of the week their day of worship. And when these shows become less than perfect, these people organize just like an army! If my enemy's followers were like that, then I would've been defeated a long time ago."

Clark found it hard to disagree with the reverend on that point, especially since he had seen some kid's at school have sessions of mourning after iBuffy/i was canceled. However, he had a feeling that he couldn't let this man see him cringe. Clark figured that he was in the middle of a dream and the reverend was somehow channeling into his subconscious to try and make him give up hope. From this theory, Clark knew that he couldn't really fight the reverend here, so he just had to take this verbal onslaught that was meant to confuse him.

"It's not just that!" Rev. Jim continued. "I believe that you have a certain girl clad in pink that you followed like your life depended on it not too long ago."

All of a sudden, Clark discovered that his resolve was going to be harder to keep than he thought. "You don't know anything about that! Besides, that ended two years ago."

"Yes, because she let you down. However, you never berate her as you do me. In fact, you still let her close to you. I'm no different than her."

"Lana still cares about me! Just because we're not in love anymore doesn't mean that she's not a good person! That's more than I can say for you!"

"We get told things all the time and believe they're true just because other people or the media says so. Why don't you berate them! I'll tell you why. Because they didn't beat you. I'll tell you this about that race that you want to protect. No one thinks for themselves, and most aren't even qualified to. You for example. Name one decision you have made that has benefited your family for the better."

Clark let out a slight growl at that statement, but as he thought about it, there was really no decision he made in his life that he thought made a positive difference in his parents' lives. Clark was trying to see through the fact that this man was constantly changing the subject in order to confuse him, but at this point, Rev. Jim was circling Clark just as before, and it was giving Clark a horrible flashback to when he was whipped.

"You only want to help people because you think you have to out of guilt. And, let's say that by some off chance, you do make a difference and find a way to help the human race immensely. The minute one poor soul spreads a nasty rumor about you, the public will turn against you. Why? Because everyone is too dumb to think for themselves! They need someone to do it for them! That's my point! You and I are called to lead these people, and with my help, you can gain the power to do so."

The reverend then walked over and put his hand on Clark's shoulder. The boy jerked his body away and gave the reverend a killer look. "You don't know anything about the human race, or me!"

"I know more than you think, Kal-el."

Clark's eyes widened as he took a step back. Every time he heard that name, there was a pang within his heart. To him, it symbolized his secret and when somebody knew it, they were seen by him in a different light. Even though he knew from the beginning that Rev. Jim knew who he was, the use of that name seemed to cement the fact that he was now different than the rest of the world population.

"H-how did you know that name? How did you find out my secret?"

"The secrets of the entire world are at my fingertips, my boy. I can teach all of them to you if you join me."

Clark could feel something inside of him that made him feel queasy. It was like a snake slithering around his body and making its way up to his chest. It seemed to constrict him around his middle and around his chest. It made him stand very still as he began to wonder if this serpent was real.

"Will you join me?" the reverend said in a slow, deep voice.

"N-n-no." Clark said as his neck began to feel tight. A hiss at his side caused him to panic and close his eyes, but then, all of a sudden, he heard a swipe and felt the tight feeling disappear.

"Aelora!" Rev. Jim shouted.

Clark's eyes shot open and his heart soared as he heard that name. However, what he saw when his eyes did open was not what he expected. Aelora looked different than she was when he last saw her. She was in a flowing white dress and her formerly matted hair was now straight and reflected the light like a mirror as it flowed like water around her shoulders. Her glasses were now missing and had been replaced with deep blue eyes, and her rough skin now looked smooth and white like milk.

"Aelora? Wha…?"

"It's okay, Clark," she said in a soothing voice that seemed to resonate all around him. "Wait here."

She then started walking away toward the reverend and revealed that she had grown a few feet. She opened her hand and let a long and slender sword grow out of her hand. It had a shiny finish and a wonderfully complicated design on the handle. It didn't look like a traditional metal sword but rather a crystal or glass object. Aelora then raised it up to the sky and let it glimmer in the white light of Clark's soul.

"What's going on!" Clark asked in a panic as he stared at the intimidating weapon. He then looked over at the reverend and saw that he was suddenly holding a large battleaxe in two of his clenched hands.

"It's time for you to lift the façade!" Aelora cried. As she pointed a long finger toward the man who instantly hunched over and moaned.

"What'd you do to Rev. Jim!" Clark asked Aelora, slightly afraid of this newly discovered power of hers.

"Rev. Jim is dead," she bellowed in a voice that resembled the low tune of a clarinet. "He has been dead for several years now. This is Marduk, or Manipulation, whichever name you prefer. He is a demon whose sole purpose is to trick and deceive."

Clark felt a great rising of fear within his heart as he heard those names. Not because of the names themselves, but because of fangs that were growing out of the man's mouth whenever Aelora spoke. He also noticed that other parts of his body were morphing as well.

"A demon," Clark said as he stepped back from the gradually shape-shifting creature and behind Aelora. "You mean, like those things on iCharmed/i?"

Rev. Jim, or Marduk as he was now known, threw his head back and cackled like a ruthless hag. "See what I mean, boy," He said in a voice even raspier than before. "You are controlled by what you are told."

"Silence!" Aelora called out in a greatly amplified voice. She then turned to Clark and said in a patient voice, "Real demons are nothing like that. Their sole purpose is convincing the world they do not exist, and using that ignorance to wreck havoc on the human race."

Clark then furrowed his brow and rubbed his arms as he glared at Marduk. "You never thought I was a demon at all did you? You knew I was good. You just wanted to convince me that I was evil so that you could control me!"

"Yes, I was told you were a smart lad. Not too good on the street smarts, though. Very trusting. A stupid characteristic if you asked me. Reminds me of James, right before I took him over."

"You…you gave Rev. Jim his powers?"

"Yes sir. I gave James his power. He had a very weak soul, which made him easy to manipulate during a mission trip to Haiti. He was trying to cast me out of a man whom I was inhabiting, and I managed to latch onto him as he thought he succeeded. I then came to him in a dream and told him that I would give him great power if he would listen to me and follow. Being the smart man he was, he accepted. Unfortunately, I didn't specify what the power would be." At this point Marduk threw his head back again and gave a horrible laugh. "Over these past years, I have been eating away at the man's spirit while using my power of manipulation to cause great havoc in this church. Of course, the moment I found out about you, a kind boy that would one day fight my forces, I knew that I couldn't let you go on."

"I had a feeling," Clark said as he tried to hide his fear.

"Don't be afraid, Clark," Aelora cooed. "He cannot lie anymore now that you are gaining strength against him. Since this is your soul, he only has as much power as you let him have."

"Oh don't listen to all that mumbo-jumbo, Clark. If she really cared about you, then why didn't she save you?"

Clark's eyes then went wide and then looked to Aelora.

"It's his most frequently used lie, Clark," Aelora said calmly. "Don't take it to heart."

Despite these words, Clark began to back away from the girl and uttered, "But why didn't you save me? Apparently you have a lot of power."

"All will be explained in due time, Clark."

The boy looked down toward his feet and carried an apprehensive look on his face. He then let out a sigh and muttered, "I don't know."

"Ha! You see Aelora! He sees right through you!"

Aelora shook her head and put her hand on Clark's shoulder. "Clark, why are you believing him? I just outed him as a demon, and when you saw him in the physical realm, he did horrible things to you! I know I didn't save you, but there wasn't a second when I didn't want to. However, I knew that this event needed to happen."

"Why did it need to happen! Why did I have to suffer so much? Why did I have to be humiliated like a stupid criminal!" Clark eyes were brimming with tears and his fists were clenched. Out of his line of vision, Marduk was growing larger as Clark's anger swelled. The boy was hurt and broken and he wanted to know why this had to happen to him. He began to back away from Aelora further and grind his teeth together.

"See, Clark, you can't trust anyone," Marduk cackled. By now, he had totally changed his shape. His fingers now had long talons and his incisors were sticking out of his mouth. His hair was now long, black, and tangled. His skin was grey, and he had long black wings sticking out his back. His clothes were now composed of a back toga that hung over his shoulder and went down to his calf muscle, and his eyes glowed yellow like a stop light.

"Y-you're right," Clark said though the lump in his throat. "Nobody cares. Aelora…Aelora only did this be…because she wanted to destroy Mar…Marduk. She didn't give a rip about me. My…my dad…at least my mom cared enough to…"

"Your mother's alive, Clark," Marduk said as he began to draw near the boy.

Clark's eyes then met Aelora's and she nodded while closing her eyes in deep sadness. This evil being was manipulating that truth that he was forced to tell and was destroying yet another soul. Aelora didn't even want to think about what could happen to Clark once Marduk could lieu again. The tables had now turned and Clark was giving the power to Marduk. This forced her to retain painful silence.

"Yes, even she knows it. Your mother was given a bullet-proof vest that had fake blood inside. Once you all left and she was alone, she got away using the truck."

"No!" Aelora shouted. "That's not…"

She didn't even get to finish her sentence before Marduk darted over and hit her with his battle axe. He then turned his face toward a horrified Clark and continued to feed him dark innuendo.

"That woman was only going to explain away why _she _let your mother leave without you, just like when _she _didn't save you. She just tortured you with kindness so that my tests would hurt all the worse."

Something didn't add up in Clark's mind. The monster was quickly contradicting himself "But w-what about what you said…"

"Only lies that her power forced me to tell," Marduk rebutted. "Look, I don't admit to be perfect, but I am someone who wants you to be all that you can be."

Within seconds, the monster that Marduk had become turned back into a man, and then continued to descend on the boy. Clark felt compelled to look at this man and didn't even act out his desire to look over at Aelora, who was weeping on the ground holding her gaping wound caused by the axe.

"Clark, believe me. Your parents have abandoned you."

Clark began to feel a large feeling of sadness as those words flowed into his ears. "But what about when my dad…"

"What about your father? He was the one pounding the nails into your wrists. What made you think he was some sort of exception? He wasn't. Your parents are gone, Clark. They've left you for greater pastures. However, I have a way that you can make them pay. You can follow me and you can gain all of the knowledge of the world. You can save a thousand souls. You will be like a god among men!"

Clark hated that description of himself before, but now, it sounded like the best idea he had ever heard.


	13. The Word

Clark's eyes opened to something he didn't expect; sight. He felt his face to revel in this amazing feat, when he noticed that the only thing he felt when his fingers touched his cheeks was a tingling sensation. He then looked up and around him and realized that he was surrounded by white light. However, the light was not pure. There was an off-white tint and the light tended to flicker. Clark felt that if this was Heaven, it was not very impressive.

"Where am I?" Clark whispered to himself.

"The battleground of your soul, my boy!"

Startled, Clark whipped his head around to see whose raspy voice had called out to him. He was shocked to see Rev. Jim standing in the exact clothing that he was in when they first met, but his voice seemed altered. His hands were folded in front of him and he wore a solid grin on his face.

"H-how did you get here?" Clark said, trembled.

"I think that this is a very impressive place that you have inside of you, Clark. I'm surprised that you are even allowed to have it, since you're not human and all."

Clark's emotions were bubbling up as never before as he listened to the continued taunts from this evil man. Clark didn't feel like he did when he was in a normal state. He felt that there was nothing holding his feelings back, as if he was on red kryptonite. Only in this situation, he felt that there were moral emotions inside him that drove him instead of bodily desire. It was that that kept him from ripping this man to shreds. Clark was actually hoping for some red kryptonite about now because he wanted to tear this man apart limb from limb for what he did. However, he also felt sorry for the man. Clark didn't want to, but he felt compelled to.

"I don't even think that you know what this place is," the reverend continued. "It is a battleground of sorts located inside your soul where people like me fight other fools who want you to join them. However, it is up to you on who wins and who loses. You can give power to the army that you want on your side, I suggest me in this case."

"Why would I do that," Clark hissed through clenched teeth. "You humiliated me. You insulted me. You called me a demon!" At this point Clark was shouting. "Why would I want to give you anything!"

"My my," Rev. Jim said while running his hands through his hair. "Talk about holding a grudge. I know I might have done some bad things, but it was only to get you here, so that I could offer you amazing power."

"Like the power you have? The power to manipulate and control innocent people?"

"Those people would have been nothing without me! They would've simply been hick farmers who beat their families and spend their nights consumed in the bottle. I'm doing them a favor."

"By taking away their freedom. No one has the right to do that."

"Oh poppycock, boy! I do no more than this world that you love so much. I don't see you berating all the television shows that attract teenagers by the millions and make a certain day of the week their day of worship. And when these shows become less than perfect, these people organize just like an army! If my enemy's followers were like that, then I would've been defeated a long time ago."

Clark found it hard to disagree with the reverend on that point, especially since he had seen some kid's at school have sessions of mourning after iBuffy/i was canceled. However, he had a feeling that he couldn't let this man see him cringe. Clark figured that he was in the middle of a dream and the reverend was somehow channeling into his subconscious to try and make him give up hope. From this theory, Clark knew that he couldn't really fight the reverend here, so he just had to take this verbal onslaught that was meant to confuse him.

"It's not just that! I believe that you have a certain girl clad in pink that you followed like your life depended on it not too long ago."

All of a sudden, Clark discovered that his resolve was going to be harder to keep than he thought. "You don't know anything about that! Besides, that ended a long time ago."

"Because she let you down. However, you never berate her as you do me. In fact, you still let her close to you. I'm no different than her."

"Lana still cares about me! Just because we're not in love anymore doesn't mean that she's not a good person! That's more than I can say for you!"

"We get told things all the time and believe they're true just because other people or the media says so. Why don't you berate them! I'll tell you why. Because they didn't beat you. I'll tell you this about that race that you want to protect. No one thinks for themselves, and most aren't even qualified to. You for example. Name one decision you have made that has benefited your family for the better."

Clark let out a slight growl at that statement, but as he thought about it, there was really no decision he made in his life that he thought made a positive difference in his parents' lives. Clark was trying to see through the fact that this man was constantly changing the subject in order to confuse him, but at this point, Rev. Jim was circling Clark just as before, and it was giving Clark a horrible flashback.

"You only want to help people because you think you have to out of guilt. And, let's say that by some off chance, you do make a difference and find a way to help the human race immensely. The minute one poor soul spreads a nasty rumor about you, the public will turn against you. Why? Because everyone is too dumb to think for themselves! They need someone to do it for them! That's my point! You and I are called to lead these people, and with my help, you can gain the power to do so."

The reverend then walked over and put his hand on Clark's shoulder. The boy jerked his body away and gave the reverend a killer look. "You don't know anything about the human race!"

"I know more than you think, and I can teach you a whole lot more if you join me."

Clark could feel something inside of him that made him feel queasy. It was like a snake slithering around his body and making its way up to his chest. It seemed to constrict him around his middle and around his chest. It made him stand very still as he began to wonder if this serpent was real.

"Will you join me?" the reverend said in a slow, deep voice.

"N-n-no." Clark said as his neck began to feel tight. A hiss at his side caused him to panic and close his eyes, but then, all of a sudden, he heard a swipe and felt the tight feeling disappear.

"Aelora!" Rev. Jim shouted.

Clark's eyes shot open and his heart soared as he heard that name. However, what he saw when his eyes did open was very different than what he expected. Aelora looked different than she was when he last saw her. She was in a flowing white dress and her formerly matted hair was now straight and reflected the light like a mirror as it flowed like water around her shoulders. Her glasses were now missing and had been replaced with deep blue eyes, and her rough hands now were as smooth as silk.

"Aelora? Wha…?"

"It's okay, Clark," she said in a soothing voice that seemed to resonate all around him. "Wait here."

She then stood up from kneeling and revealed that she had grown a few feet. She opened her hand and let a long and slender sword grow out of her hand. It had a shiny finish and a wonderfully complicated design on the handle. It didn't look like a traditional metal sword but rather a crystal or glass object. Aelora then raised it up to the sky and let it glimmer in the white light of Clark's soul.

"What's going on!" Clark asked in a panic as he stared at the intimidating weapon. He then looked over at the reverend and saw that he was now holding a large battleaxe in two of his clenched hands.

"It's time for you to lift the façade!" Aelora cried. As she pointed a long finger toward the man who then hunched over and moaned.

"What'd you do to Rev. Jim!" Clark asked Aelora, slightly afraid of this newly discovered power of hers.

"Rev. Jim is dead," she chimed. "He has been dead for several years now. This is Marduk, or Manipulation, whichever name you prefer. He is a demon whose sole purpose is to trick and deceive."

Clark felt a great rising of fear within his heart as he heard those names. Not because of the names themselves, or the fact that this man had been his abuser for what seemed like an eternity, but because of the fact that fangs grew out of the man's mouth whenever Aelora spoke. He also noticed that other parts of his body were changing as well.

"A demon," Clark said as he stepped back from the gradually shape-shifting creature and behind Aelora. "You mean, like those things on iCharmed/i?"

Rev. Jim, or Marduk as he was now known, threw his head back and cackled like a ruthless hag. "See what I mean, boy," He said in a voice even raspier than before. "You are controlled by what you are told."

"Silence!" Aelora called out in a greatly amplified voice. She then turned to Clark and said in a patient voice, "Real demons are nothing like that. Their sole purpose is convincing the world they do not exist, and using that ignorance to wreck havoc on the human race."

Clark then furrowed his brow and rubbed his arms as he looked back at Marduk and glared at him. "You never thought I was a demon at all did you? You knew I was good. You just wanted to convince me that I was evil so that you could control me!"

"Yes, I was told you were a smart lad. Not too good on the street smarts, though. Very trusting. A stupid characteristic if you asked me. Reminds me of James, right before I took him over."

"You…you gave Rev. Jim his powers?"

"Yes sir. I gave James his power. He was a very weak soul, which made him easy to manipulate during a mission trip to Haiti. He was trying to cast me out of a man whom I was inhabiting, and I managed to latch onto him as he thought he succeeded. I then came to him in a dream and told him that I would give him great power if he would listen to me and follow. Being the smart man he was, he accepted. Unfortunately, I didn't specify what the power would be." At this point Marduk threw his head back and gave a horrible and evil laugh. "Over these past years, I have been eating away at the man's spirit while using my power of manipulation to cause great havoc in this church. Of course, the moment I found out about you, a kind boy that would one day fight my forces, I knew that I couldn't let you go on."

"I had a feeling," Clark said as he tried to hide his fear.

"Don't be afraid, Clark," Aelora cooed. "He only has as much power as you let him have."

"Oh don't listen to all that mumbo-jumbo, Clark. If she really cared about you, then why didn't she save you?"

Clark's eyes then went wide and then looked to Aelora.

"It's his most frequently used lie, Clark," Aelora said calmly. "Don't take it to heart."

"But why didn't you save me? Apparently you have a lot of power."

"All will be explained in due time, Clark."

The boy looked down toward his feet and carried an apprehensive look on his face. He then let out a sigh and muttered, "I don't know."

"Ha! You see Aelora! He sees right through you!"

Aelora shook her head and put her hand on Clark's shoulder. "Clark, why are you believing him? I just outed him as a demon, and when you saw him in the physical realm, he did horrible things to you! I know I didn't save you, but there wasn't a second when I didn't want to. However, I knew that this time needed to happen."

"Why!" Clark shouted. His eyes were brimming with tears and his fists were clenched. Out of his line of vision, Marduk was growing larger as Clark's anger swelled. The boy was hurt and broken and he wanted to know why this had to happen to him. He began to back away from Aelora and grind his teeth together.

"See, Clark, you can't trust anyone," Marduk cackled. By now, he had totally changed his shape. His fingers now had long talons and his incisors were sticking out of his mouth. His hair was now long, black, and tangled. His skin was grey, and he had long black wings sticking out his back. His clothes were now composed of a back toga that hung over his shoulder and went down to his calf muscle, and his eyes glowed yellow like a stop light.

"Y-you're right," Clark said though the lump in his throat. "Nobody cares. Aelora…Aelora only did this be…because she wanted to destroy Mar…Marduk. She didn't give a rip about me. My…my dad…at least my mom cared enough to…"

"Your mother's alive, Clark," Marduk said as he began to draw near Clark.

His eyes then met Aelora's and she nodded while closing her eyes in deep sadness. All she could do was stay silent now that Clark was giving Marduk all the power he needed.

"Yes, even she knows it. Your mother was given a bullet-proof vest that had fake blood inside. Once you all left and she was alone, she got away using the truck."

"No!" Aelora shouted. "That's not…"

She didn't even get to finish her sentence before Marduk darted over and hit her with his battle axe. He then turned his face toward a horrified Clark and continued to feed him dark innuendo.

"That woman was only going to explain away why _she _let your mother leave without you, just like when _she _didn't save you. She just tortured you with kindness so that my tests would hurt all the worse."

"But w-what about what you said…"

"Only lies that her power forced me to tell. Look, I don't admit to be perfect, but I am someone who wants you to be all that you can be."

Within seconds, the monster that Marduk had become turned back into a man, and then continued to decend on the boy. Clark felt compelled to look at this man and didn't even act out his desire to look over at Aelora, who was weeping on the ground holding her gaping wound.

"Clark, believe me. Your parents have abandoned you."

"But what about when my dad…"

"What about your father? He was the one pounding the nails into your wrists. What made you think he was some sort of exception? He wasn't. Your parents are gone, Clark. They've left you for greater pastures. However, I have a way that you can make them pay. You can follow me and "

Martha sat on the grass behind the church building as they waited for the sun to come out from behind the overcast clouds. Clark's head was in her lap as she ran her fingers through his slippery, black hair. She could hear Clark muttering some things that she couldn't make out, but she knew that there seemed to be conversation going on.

"How is he?" said a young feminine voice behind her.

"Not well," Martha said softly. "I told you we should have done this sooner. Why did we have to wait until they already nailed him, Kimberly!"

"Martha," Kimberly said as she knelt beside the grieving mother. "We got there too late, and that's my fault. However, I'm glad you followed the plan even though we didn't get there in time. Otherwise, he would be hanging on that cross right now and you would probably be dead. However, now you're starting to do exactly what Aelora told you not to do. You have to be calm for him. That will only cause more stress for him."

"Can you blame me?" Martha said as a single tear rolled down her cheek. Kimberly then put her hand on the woman's shoulder.

"I understand, Martha. I felt the exact same way when my father destroyed Stephen. I had no power to save him then at the age of twelve, but it only increased my resolve to stop him from hurting anyone else. I hope that I succeed this time."

Martha nodded in acknowledgement of her words, but little else. All that encompassed her focus right now was her boy beaten and broken in her lap. Despite the summer heat, he was shivering and it seemed like his heart was beating very fast. Martha was not a doctor, but it seemed impossible to her to have a boy under this much stress when he was practically unconscious. Martha figured that he was simply catatonic, but then the question was raised as to how the reverend was able to make her boy like that.

"Kim," Martha asked softly. "How does Rev. Jim do all of this. Is he a meteor freak?"

"Freak?" Kim asked. "I'd agree with that notion one-hundred percent. However, the meteor thing is very far from the truth."

Martha was confused, and she wanted to ask more, but she heard more moans from her son and she began to realize that asking questions to keep her mind sane was only going to lead to kidding herself

Jonathan was running from behind the hill that the church sat on top of before stopping right in front of the sight.

"They slashed our tires and drained our gas tank," Jonathan huffed. "We're going to have to wait for the help you called."

"Let's just hope that Chloe got the mail I sent her."

"Chloe?"

"Kimberly got me to a computer and let me e-mail her with our location."

Even though the message was an encouraging one, Jonathan could feel the ice coming from his wife's voice. It was like a cold breeze ripping through his spirit with every word. The farmer had a feeling that she didn't mean to sound so cruel, but it was hard to hide the fact that she was still angry.

"Uh…Martha," Kimberly said. "Maybe Jonathan can stay with Clark on his own while we go and wait for the cavalry."

"No, Kimberly. I want to stay with…"

Kimberly then pulled Martha close to her and whispered, "Jonathan needs this time, Martha. Clark has stabilized now that he's at least outside. Once the sun comes out then he'll heal faster. I doubt that he's going to die, but if something does happen, you're not the one he should be talking to."

As much as Martha didn't want to believe it, she knew Kimberly was right.

"How did you get so wise at sixteen?" Martha sighed.

"A great sister," Kim laughed. She then got up from her position on the ground and trotted over to Jonathan who was looking at Clark from a distance.

"Jonathan," she said as she put her hand on his shoulder. "My name's Kimberly, I…"

"I know who you are," Jonathan interrupted. "We met before…all this."

"Good memory," Kimberly said with a weak laugh. "Now, you and Martha have been very good at not getting hysterical here. I'm pretty sure that Clark's going to be fine, which means that there is no reason to get overly upset. If you do then you will…"

"I know, Martha already told me. It will cause Clark more emotional distress."

"Yeah, anyway, Martha and I are going to wait for help while you stay with Clark…"

"Wait sh-shouldn't Martha be there. She's his mother."

Kim pulled away and tilted her head to the side. "Jonathan, this interruption is starting to get on my nerves. Now just let me explain. We've been sitting here for a half an hour and all you've been doing is circling the shed and running over the hill to explore and make sure that none of the followers are leaving the sanctuary. You have not been less than three feet away from your son in that whole time. It's annoying Martha and it's annoying me."

"But…but…" Jonathan put fingers on his temple to try and keep back his emotions. "I can't…I can't…what if I have a relapse?"

"Of what? The spell? There is no chance of that happening Mr. Kent, and you know that as well as I do."

Jonathan sighed before putting his face in his hands. "I can't face him," he whispered. "I can't sit there and watch him…helpless…"

"It's okay Jonathan," Kim said as she stood up on her tiptoes to put her arm around the farmer's shoulders. "You'll have to face him sometime. Might as well be now."

Jonathan nodded and lifted his face from his hands. He then trudged over to the spot where Clark lay and knelt down beside his wife. Martha then patted the man on the shoulder without looking at him and pushed herself to her feet.

"C'mon Martha," Kim said to her as they walked away from the spot.

Kim and Martha both were balancing themselves on the inclined ground as they started to disappear over the other side of the hill. Martha couldn't help but spend most of her walk looking over her shoulder to her beloved, her baby, her only child. The boy that she loved more than anything else in this world. She was so heartbroken at the sight of abandoning him once again. She wanted so badly to fight this girl's words just like she did after she faked her death.

"_Martha! We have to go! We have to call for help!" _

"_No! I can't! I have to chase after Clark! They're going to hurt him more! They might kill him! Please! Please!"_

_Martha ran toward the door without waiting for an answer as she grabbed the knob of the iron door. However, she was stopped by Kim and Aelora when they grabbed her and held her while she was struggling to break free._

"_Let me go!" She shouted. "I need to save my baby!"_

"_Martha! Get a grip!" Aelora shouted. "You won't be saving Clark by doing this! You have to stay here and come with us. We're going to save your son, but now is not the time for hysterics! Believe us, Mrs. Kent. We want Clark free, too"_

Clark was free now, and that left Martha very relieved that she ended up listening to the girls and waiting so that the greater good was served. However, after Clark was out of her line of vision, she couldn't help but lose her footing and roll down the hill.

"Martha!" Kim shouted as she slid down the incline. Luckily, Martha only tumbled a few feet, but it was enough in once again inflame the ankle that she twisted earlier.

"Are you okay?" Kim said as she knelt beside the woman as she gripped her hurting joint.

Martha was unable to speak as she looked up at the young girl. She was pursing her lips as if holding back her urge to cry. She also was taking large breaths through her nose.

Jonathan looked down at his bleeding son in the grass and tried to stop the tears streaming down his face.

"Oh God. Please! We need the sun!" Jonathan didn't know what to do. He watched as the clouds became thicker and the sun was further impeded. All he could do was watch his son suffer from his wounds. Despite Kim's words, Jonathan was frightened from the scars in Clark's wrists pouring blood more every second, and all of the other multiple scars on his body continuing to bleed. Clark's skin was pale and his eyes were barely open, with the look of death taking him over. All the farmer could see was a son who had been put through a horrible ordeal that would likely affect him for the rest of his life. Even when his scars healed, there would probably be horrible emotional wounds that would never go away

Jonathan crawled over to his son's side and stroked his cheek.

"Clark?" he said with pain in his voice. "I know that you can't see me, but please hear me. Please, Beloved."

Clark was just about to respond to Rev. Jim when he heard the familiar masculine voice in his ear.

"What's that?" Clark said as he lifted his head. "It sounds like my dad."

"It's in your head, boy," the reverend said.

Clark felt his heart and noticed that it was warm. It then began to spread around his entire body. He then felt a single tear fall down as he whispered. "Beloved. I'm Beloved."

Marduk looked up and began to panic. Clark could see the fear in Rev. Jim's eyes and pulled away from his hands. "How could he use that word," he sneered. "Of all words."

"It _is _my dad!" Clark shouted. "How did I ever listen to you! You were lying all along."

Angry, Marduk bared his teeth and pounced on Clark, pushing him to the ground. Clark looked up and saw that his true form was now back, and it was wrecking havoc on Clark's mind. Marduk's talons dug into the boy's torso as a shot of emotional pain made it to Clark's heart. He screamed as the flood of every bad memory he ever experienced piled its way into his conscious thought. Clark shouted for the memories to stop as his being began to weaken. The grey creature on top of him snickered and laughed at the suffering of the boy. Seemingly out of nowhere, Aelora used her sword to strike the demon in the cheek and ran to Clark's side.

"You're okay," Clark said as he recovered from the blow. "I'm so sorry, I don't know why…"

"You'd be surprised how often it happens in this world, Clark. I forgive you. Now, to your father. What is he saying?"

Clark lifted himself off the ground and let Aelora help him onto his feet. He still felt disoriented after the memories finally left his mind, but Clark then felt a gentle touch on his cheek that was echoed by him putting his fingers on the felt spot. The boy then felt a surge of happiness within him at what he heard.

"Oh god, Clark. Please don't die! I love you more than anything. I didn't want to do those things. I just…I don't know…I…oh my son…please forgive me!"

"Aelora," Clark said as sadness began to well up with the happy feeling. "My father really does love me. He…"

"He's lying!" Marduk shouted as he tried to recover from the last blow.

"Don't listen to him!" Aelora countered. "You would not be able to hear him if he wasn't sincere!"

"I know," Clark said with a smile. "He doesn't want me to die. Am I…am I going to die?"

Aelora sighed and told Clark, "I don't know, but I'll tell you one thing, I think that no matter what happens, your dad would like to hear from you right now."

"How do I do that?"

"Just speak from your heart. However, it might hurt to reconnect to your body, and you might not be able to say much."

"I don't care. He needs to hear something me. I have a feeling that the most important words will get out."

"Beloved," Clark said in an almost inaudible voice as he opened his eyes ever so slightly.

"Clark?" Jonathan frantically said as he cupped his son's chin in his fingertips and looked at him. "Clark, can you hear me?"

"D-daddy. B-bel-loved. L-love…you. "

Jonathan couldn't help himself anymore, he just broke down and bawled and put his head in the grass. This was just like his son, to be a kind and gentle person. No matter what he did to him, Clark was going to love him. It was this kind of love that made him the most worthy person to die in the way he did. Jonathan squeezed his son's still hand as much as he could to comfort him, even though he himself was in more pain that he had ever been in his whole life.

"Aelora…he's…he's crying…he's…Aelora, I've never heard my dad cry like that before. I just…I can't die. I can't leave him like this."

"That's why we have to defeat this enemy so that you can have a fighting chance."

"I will not let you destroy any others in your sick game, Marduk!"

"How naïve are you, Aelora!" He said in his raspy voice. "He couldn't even fight me when he was in his own strong body. Here, he's just as weak as everybody else, so what makes you think that here will be any different"

"You are obviously the naïve one! Souls are far stronger than the body, and this boy has the strongest soul of anybody I have met in this horrible cesspool you created. That is why this time we will defeat you once and for all."

"Oh Aelora, ever since you showed up in my domain you have tried to keep me from destroying every soul that came through here. You think that you tricked me into telling James to adopt you, but it was you who got duped. Posing as a poor Russian teenager didn't fool me one bit. I wanted to get you so that I could show you how powerful I was. I was at a weak time in my life when you defeated me during the rule of Hezikiah. This was the battle that you have constantly been losing and you won't admit it."

Aelora sighed and shook her head before she stated in a strong voice, "You didn't destroy that many souls

Every time you have tried and every time you have failed. Why do you think you will succeed now?"u

Aelora then looked over at Clark. The boy had a very frightened look on his face, as well as one of confusion and doubt. Aelora then smiled at him and held out her hand to the boy while speaking to Marduk at the same time.

"You know why, Marduk. You feared what this boy would become, but little did you know that he has already arrived. You fear him, Marduk. Being the manipulator you are, you can pass your fear off as desire for him to join you, but fear never hides from me."

Clark grabbed the hand and Aelora gripped it tight. He then smiled at her as she returned the expression. Clark then looked at the sword that was in Aelora's other hand.

"Are you going to fight him?" Clark asked.

Aelora then gave him a single nod and said, "And so are you."

Clark's eyes went wide and then looked down at his own free hand. It too had a sword, only it was smaller than the one Aelora had. However, it was still a very impressive weapon. Clark's lip began to quiver as he glanced over at the looming creature pacing on all fours with a black battleaxe clenched in his teeth. Clark licked his lips and took a deep breath.

"I don't know if I can…"

"You can, Clark. There is no shame in fighting these creatures. If you don't then you will have to live with their deceit forever."

"But…I couldn't before. Maybe I'm not supposed to."

"You're angry, Clark. It strengthens you in body, but it weakens you in this place."

"Th-that doesn't make any sense."

Aelora then let out a little giggle before saying, "If I had a nickel for every time I heard that. Just have faith, Clark. You want to defeat him, don't you?"

"M-more than anything."

"Than that is enough. Give up your fear and your anger and trade it for resolve."


	14. The Rescue

Chloe Sullivan leaned against the window of the police cruiser that she had been riding in for the past hour. She used one hand to hold the printout of directions from Martha Kent's frantic e-mail, and the other to twist the handle of her purse around, a nervous habit she had picked up years ago.

"Are you sure we didn't pass it?" Chloe asked in a nervous tone of voice.

The bulky black police officer in the passenger seat of the car then looked back at her and scowled. "Ms. Sullivan, if you ask us that one more time, I might have to force you to walk there!"

Startled, Chloe leaned back in her seat and tried to hide the red rushing to her cheeks.

"No, we didn't pass it." The officer said in a surrendering tone. "I've been keeping my eyes open and I haven't seen a church."

"Okay, thanks Chuck," Chloe said softly as she clutched her purse tight and buried her body in the seat. The girl was very embarrassed that she let herself get yelled at like that without at least defending herself, but once easily found words seemed to leave her whenever she was in an anxious sate. Her journalistic instincts always seemed to fizzle when it came to Clark. Deep in thought, she continued to look out the window at the corn stalks rushing by in a blur.

All of a sudden the car stopped, lurching Chloe's small purse onto the floor her stomach to her feet.

"What the hell…" Chuck was about to cuss his partner out when he realized what the sudden stop had been about. It was a bloody blanket.

"Griff," Chuck said to the driver. "Check it out."

The small white man who had been driving then got out of the car and trotted over to the site.

"Oh jeeze," Chloe uttered when she finally saw what all of the excitement was all about. It was a white blanket that had a crimson stain covering most of it. The girl could feel her lungs begin to tighten as she watched her driver trudge back to the vehicle.

"It was nothing," Griff sighed as he stuck his head through the open door.

"Nothing!" Chloe shouted in a near squeal. "There is a bloody blanket on the side of the road while we're on our way to a possible fatal incident involving my best friend! How can anyone say that this is nothing!"

"Calm down, Chloe," Chuck croaked as he watched his partner slide into the car. "This could be a farming accident or it could involve a homicide. We don't know. However, what we are headed toward is our priority since it's from our jurisdiction. As Smallville cops, we can only focus on the Kent family at the moment, who we should be continuing our pursuit of right now."

The officer's firm tone once again caused Chloe to blush and sit back in her seat. "I guess when times get this stressful we don't really use our heads do we?"

"Happens to the best of us Ms. Sullivan," Griff said as he started the car back up and continued to drive.

Chloe was not comforted at all by that site. She was also not comforted by the fact that her escorts seemed unconcerned about the foreboding nature of the abandoned sheet. Up until this point, she had hope for a quick resolution to this incident. Martha was not detailed about the situation in her e-mail, so Chloe was confident that it was not as serious as the week-long absence had suggested. The girl now knew that she was wrong. She was not even looking for the church anymore. It was now like the only thing in her line of vision was a picture of Clark's blood-soaked corpse being wrapped in a blanket and thrown into a field to be eaten by crows. The image caused her to miss the brooding steeple that was appearing in the distance.

oOoOo

The cruiser pulled along side the hill causing the seats to jerk. This awakened Chloe along with the sirens from several other police cars that were pulling up behind them. It seemed like there pit stop had allowed the rest of the police force to catch up to them.

The blonde girl's eyes scanned the hill that the church rested on before stopping on a site made her worst fears seem plausible.

"Oh my god," Chloe uttered as she threw the door open, slipped out of the cruiser, and looked over at Martha crying in the embrace of a strange girl.

"Martha!" Chloe shouted as she started running over to her. Martha looked up from her lament and immediately leapt to her feet before meeting Chloe and hugging her tight.

"Thank God you came," Martha shouted through her hysteria. She gripped the girl so tight that Chloe was beginning to feel constricted. She wasn't used to seeing the woman so frightened.

"Where's Clark?" Chloe asked as she comforted the woman. Startled by Martha's frightening demeanor, she feared the worst, but she also tried to hope for the best.

"Dear God in heaven," uttered Chuck as he focused his gaze on a sight behind the hill.

The girl looked up at Chuck and Griff jogging around the hill to the other side where something was obviously going on. Chloe broke away from Martha and put her in the hands of another officer before following the two.

Every crunch of grass under her sandals seemed like the beat of a war drum as she the horizon came closer and closer. The music created by her steps and beating heart illuminated the journey she was traveling better than any movie score.

What she saw was one of the worst things she had ever seen in her life. Once it entered her line of vision, she was forced to approach slowly because her trembling body wouldn't let anything else happen. As she neared, she took in the site of her best friend lying nearly motionless in the grass immersed in blood. His shirt was missing and his pants were very dirty and torn up. His body was covered with dirty cuts and his hands almost looked like a can of red paint had been poured on them. Once the girl was about ten feet away, she couldn't come any closer. The images of Clark covered with multiple bruises and swollen body parts were too much for her to handle. He looked like he was breathing, but barely. This wasn't supposed to happen to Clark. He couldn't die. He never did anything to anybody. How could anyone think of doing this to him?

Chloe couldn't help but shun her journalistic title of emotionless spectator and collapse on the ground crying. Her tears kept her from seeing the shaken Jonathan being taken away from his son's side by a police officer, and Clark's pulse being checked by the other.

"Holy crap," the female officer uttered as she jerked her finger away from the boy's neck. "His pulse is going a mile a minute. We have to get him to a hospital."

"Griff," the Chuck said in a shaky tone to his partner from behind him. "Radio the others and tell them to check out the inside of that church. Get the parents some blankets and get the kid into an ambulance. I want to get the injured back to Smallville and the guilty in jail before it gets dark. Got it?"

Griff nodded while he put his hand on Jonathan's shoulder. He then started to lead him toward the growing group of emergency vehicles on the dirt road in front of the church.

"I…I have…to be with…my boy," Jonathan said softly through a clogged nose. His head was caught in another dizzy fog from his crying spell and intense emotional stress. The farmer could barely even walk straight without the officer's aid.

"It's okay Mr. Kent," Griff said. "We have to help Clark now, but it will be okay. You can ride with him in the ambulance."

The only acknowledgement Jonathan gave was the shivering that accompanied his nearly asleep state. It finally hit him that they were saved when he was brought away from his son, but he didn't even have the energy to rejoice in the fact. He didn't even notice that there were a whole group of congregation members being led away in handcuffs very peacefully as well as a white body bag being brought to an ambulance.

In the meantime, Chloe was finally able to get control of herself and courageously crawl over to the side of her injured friend. A myriad of paramedics were checking Clark's vitals and preparing him to go on a stretcher. Despite the busy rush, the blonde reporter was able to get close to the boy and talk to him a little bit.

"Clark," Chloe uttered with a small voice. Tears were still lingering in her eyes as she looked at the bleeding farm boy she knew and loved so well. "Clark…I…I don't know why or how this happened…but you're going to be fine, okay. You're…gonna be fine. At least you better be. You're so dead if you don't fly back to me."

Chloe's tears began to return as her bulky friend was slid onto a stretcher and his wrists were wrapped in thick bandages. She stood up as the bed was raised onto legs and slowly rolled down the hill toward the busy dirt road.

"Lana wanted to be here, too," Chloe said with her broken voice as she followed the paramedics. "I told her that they only wanted me to come. Heh. It was kind of a lie. I don't think more emotional girls would help the situation, but I also wanted to be the one here for you when you came out of this. I know it was selfish, but…"

"Ms. Sullivan," one of the paramedics said, startling Chloe into seeing that they had already reached the ambulance. "This is where you have to let the parents take over."

The girl looked up at a visibly shaken Martha Kent wrapped in a grey blanket, trying to clear her stuffy nose. She was helped into the back of the ambulance and placed on a bench next to her equally shaken husband who had been there already. She gulped and wiped her eyes as she watched her invincible best friend enter through the doors she never expected him to go through. Once they closed, Griff put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed.

"C'mon, Chloe," he said to her softly. "It's over now. He's gonna be fine."

oOoOo

"GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Marduk's war cry startled the waiting Clark so that he could use his muscular wolf-like legs to leap toward the boy in a growling rage.

Clark lifted his sword in the air so that he would be able to stab the monster right in the heart when he came close. However, Marduk alluded the trap and dove down, thereby grabbing Clark by the stomach and dragging him through the air. In a frantic rush, Aelora seemed to immediately sprout wings that gave off a light brighter than Clark had ever seen. She then took off into the air to chase after the quick demon.

While in Marduk's clutches, Clark tried to swing his sword into the monster's arm. However, the position he was held in made any body part impossible for the blade to touch. Clark was tempted to try and change hands or simply javelin the sword at Marduk's chest. He hesitated, though, because both of these moves would involve throwing his sword which brought the possibility of dropping it. He would definitely be done for then.

Clark could feel Marduk's large claws begin to pierce him as his mind raced as to what to do about his predicament. He looked behind the demon at Aelora who was trying to catch up to them, but she seemed too far away to change his predicament.

"See, Clark," Marduk said very slowly as if to relish in the moment. "You were very foolish to reject me. Now you will face your ultimate destruction so that your powerful body can finally be mine! I will rule both the spiritual and the physical world! Ha!"

His self-absorbed cackling reminded Clark of those insane criminals that he saw Batman apprehend on the news. However, it didn't make Clark any less frightened about losing at the hands of this beast.

_**Clark.**_

_What? Who? Who's there?_

_**Remember, my son. This is your soul, not his. You are in control here, even though he will try and make you think you have no choice but to surrender. No demon, no angel, no desire of the flesh, nothing can shape your destiny but you. Even though it can sometimes be painful for me, that is the truth, and you must remember that. **_

Clark couldn't hear the voice anymore as he began to feel Marduk's sharp and burning talons dig into him further. This was insane. Who was that? Jor-el never talked like that, even though his dad did sometimes. What was he supposed to do? For all he knew it was just another demon trying to…no. It wasn't another demon. He knew it. The voice was warm, kind, and loving. He trusted it. Now he had to follow it, but what was it talking about? Could it…wait. He said that he was in control, not Marduk. Maybe, just maybe, the physics of this place could also be in his hands, or who knows what else.

The boy had a plan. Even through his pain filled mind he thought of it quickly. This was his one chance to destroy this demon who had made his life a living hell for these past days

Without any more hesitation, Clark fought through the pain and threw the sword toward Marduk's exposed chest. Once it was in the air, time seemed to go very slowly, as if he was in super-speed. He then started to use his will to drive it further toward his enemy's chest, almost like telekinesis.

The high-pitched scream that followed almost made everything stand still, even though Clark thought he felt his physical body shake a little bit. There was also a great change in the surrounding light. It suddenly gained brightness almost two-fold, and made Marduk continue his screaming rampage. His claws finally let the boy go as he felt himself falling. However, Clark knew better and floated gracefully toward the ground so he could land on his feet. Aelora, who seemed to come out of nowhere again, landed beside him and put her arm around his shoulder.

"I can't believe it," Clark uttered as he watched his sword fall back down by his side. "I did it."

"I can," Aelora sighed as she pulled the boy into a tight embrace. She then kissed him on the cheek and ruffled his hair before Clark returned her gestures with a bright grin.

Before they knew it, a thump was heard. Their adversary had fallen from the sky and was writhing on the floor in extreme pain.

The hole in the demon's chest seemed to get bigger as Clark picked up the crystal sword that was covered in black mist. The blackness around the blade reminded the boy of food coloring in water, only instead of spreading, the color was decreasing.

Clark looked up from his weapon and saw that the same mist was coming out of his enemy's bleeding wound. He also seemed to be coughing up that mist before it completely dissipated.

"I told you that he was strong, Marduk," Aelora said, finally breaking the tortured silence.

The monster made a horrible face that showed the sheer amount of pain his was in. The light that surrounded them seemed to be burning his skin and the slice in his torso began to enlarge and continue to pour mist. He groaned and began to lose his footing before collapsing on the ground with his wings covering him like broken kites.

Clark threw down his sword and began to walk toward the ailing creature, but Aelora once again touched his shoulder for him to stop.

"I'll…show you…real power, boy," Marduk moaned. "I'll show you. Destruction!"

Suddenly, another demon that resembled Marduk appeared from the sky. Once he landed, he tried to shield his eyes from the light with his wings and put his muscular arm around the ailing demon in order to help him to his feet. The second monster stole an angry glance at Clark and Aelora before he took flight and drew his curved sword that reminded Clark of the Soviet flag.

"Oh no," Aelora uttered as she ripped her own sword out of its hold and soared into the air. Clark looked on with confusion as he saw the two demons disappear and his friend try to chase them.

"What's happen…" Clark couldn't finish before he felt a horrible pain in his head. It was like his skull was exploding into a million pieces.

"No!" Aelora shouted as she darted back to Clark's side. By now he had fallen on his knees with his palms vigorously rubbing his temples.

oOoOo

As Clark was being rolled into the hospital, something happened to him that made the doctors frantic. They didn't know what it was, but it made him be rushed into the ICU. In the hours since, Jonathan and Martha's wounds were dressed and they were told that they could leave if they wanted. However, they chose to spend their time in the waiting room sitting opposite from each other and not meeting the other's gaze. The parents' mouths never even made a peep as they let the breeze from the air conditioning keep them from collapsing in pure exhaustion. They needed to stay awake for the sake of their son.

As the hours ticked by, Jonathan's head hung low as he tried to fight back the urge to cry. The blood in his face seemed to drain away and go straight to his numbing hands. There were sharp pains in his chest as he put a hand to his breastbone and started rubbing. Half of his mind prayed that this was the heart attack that would take him out of this horrible nightmare that his life had become. However, they seemed to be normal pains that accompanied a lost soul, pains that he knew his wife was experiencing right now.

Martha was simply leaning against a wall across from him, tapping the wall to keep her hands occupied. In about the third hour, she started a random burst of sobbing, letting her tears flow as free as a waterfall. Jonathan took a deep breath and slowly walked over to put a hand on her shoulder, but she jerked it away. Jonathan immediately felt a pang in his heart that he was not used to. It was the pain of rejection. He remembered getting dumped by girls as a teenager and turned down for loans at the bank, but this was different. This was the person he loved more than anything in the world. He knew that she was mad at her, but this was the first time he realized that she was not going to let him be her comfort like he was in the past. The worst part about this was that he didn't blame her.

The farmer backed away and trudged toward one of the plastic, blue chairs that were waiting in the emergency room. He watched Martha slide her body down to the floor in pure anguish and hopelessness, and started to feel the true weight of things never being the same again. Jonathan simply laid himself down across the row of chairs before putting his face in his hands and weeping.

"Mr. and Mrs. Kent?"

The couple was awakened from their tears to the voice of the young male doctor with a large stack of papers in his arms. His soft gaze indicated no horrible news, but news nonetheless.

"What is it, doctor?" Jonathan croaked before clearing his throat.

"I have news," he said in monotone as the couple began to come nearer.

"How is Clark?" Martha asked frantically.

"We don't know yet," he said in a frustrated tone. He didn't even let the parents act out their own frustration before he said, "The reason I came here was to talk about you."


	15. The Hospital

Clark couldn't feel any life around him. When he was fighting Marduk, there was at least the feeling of blood pumping through him and a heart beating in his chest. However, it wasn't like it was in his body. It was like he had total control over these systems, even the ones that worked on their own. Now, he couldn't feel these things anymore. It was like there was a divorce between his body and soul that he never felt before.

"Clark?" Aelora asked from behind him.

He turned around to face the woman in all her glory. Even though the light from around them certainly made her white clothing shine, there was still a glow coming off her that was different. He wanted to ask her so many things, mostly about what was happening to him. However, another question left his mouth.

"So, what are you?"

Aelora smiled and said, "I was sent to protect you Clark. I was sent to protect your heart, as well as the hearts of everyone who comes into the clutches of Marduk's congregation."

"Are you an…angel or something?"

"I am," Aelora said, causing Clark to nearly lose his footing. Even after all that had happened to him, after all that Aelora had helped him do, he was still surprised at the revelation. He had never really thought about the existence of angels before, but now that he was standing in the presence of one, a great fear rose inside him. He couldn't feel it before because he was busy battling a demon, but now that he could fully take in the beauty of this being, and he was scared. He was unworthy to be in her presence.

"Oh man," Clark said as a sob began to form in his throat. He fell to his knees and turned his face away from the friend who had helped him through all of his torture and humiliation.

"Why are you hiding from me, Clark?" she asked as she reached out a hand to him. "You've been with me all this time. You've fought a demon with me. Why are you surprised?"

"Because," Clark gulped as he continued to hide his face. "This is usually the part where you take out the flaming sword and…"

"Okay, let's stop right there," she said with the same strong voice she had used with Steven when they first met. "Where did you hear that?"

"Well…when I was a kid in Sunday school they used to tell us stories about…"

"Alright, I have to stop you again. This is why Smallville has so many problems. The churches there are horrible because they either focus on the Bad News or the Good News. You need BOTH to have a good church. I don't get why you humans either want to say everyone is horrid and unredeemable or everyone is good and hunky-dory. There is such a thing as…"

"Um…Aelora," Clark said as he finally looked at her. "You're venting. I don't think you realize it."

Aelora laughed and covered the blush that was coming to her face. "I'm sorry. What we're supposed to do is get humans to say these things for us, but not many listen to us, so we get a little frustrated sometimes."

"I see," Clark laughed as he finally felt at ease with this supernatural being. He got up from his knees and said, "But I have a question. Why didn't you just fly us out of the church if you were an angel?"

"I don't 'fly' when people are able to see me. My battle is with the unseen world, not with the physical. That's someone else's job."

"I'm guessing you're talking about God, right?"

"Yes, or as I like to call Him, the Agape Love that will one day save world."

"Yeah…okay. But why didn't He fly us out?"

"He did."

"What do you MEAN He did?" Clark said firmly as he finally made firm eye contact with the angel. "I was tortured for…I don't know how long, but I know it was for a long time. If He flew us out, I would be at home in my parents' arms right now."

"You're in a hospital now and your parents are fine. Your mom called for help."

"But if I had gotten out earlier, I would not be dealing with all this crap right now."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes! Why didn't He get us out earlier?"

Aelora let out a frustrated sigh, as if she had heard this too many times. "Did you ask Him?"

"Well…no, but just because I don't ask doesn't mean that…"

"You just assume that you deserve to leave without even thinking that it might just take you to destroy the enemy so this never happens again to anybody else."

"I didn't think of that at first, but why didn't the guy who went through this before me do it? Why should I be the one to defeat Marduk?"

"Because you are! Clark, you have to understand that there is a reason for everything."

Clark sighed and put his fingers to his forehead before saying, "That's what everyone says after something horrible happens. It just seems too simple."

"That's why it's true," Aelora said as she looked to a clearly frustrated Clark. "You will understand someday, but right now you just have to trust me and Him so that you can get out of this. I'm guessing you want to know why you feel so segregated from your body."

"I'm not sure if I want to know," Clark said as he shrugged, not at all surprised that she knew what his predicament was.

"I really think that you should, Clark. You felt such pain earlier because there was a demon inside of you who has been trying to wreck havoc on your soul for years. His name was Destruction."

"I guess his job is obvious," Clark said, in fear of where this conversation was going. "Why was he embedded inside me? Don't you go all crazy when you have a demon possessing you?"

Aelora laughed before saying, "True possession only happens if the vessel lets it happen. An average person can have multiple demons latched onto them and feel completely normal. The only thing that is different is that sinful urges are multiplied because of their suggestion. It's the person's will that determines how powerful each demon is in their decision-making. Destruction was the one whispering in your ear in high school to follow the will of your biological father and fulfill his destiny for you. It was many of my colleagues who were whispering in your other ear not to listen to him. Thankfully, you listened to the good guys."

"Wow," Clark said softly as he tried to take in the fact that all of the psychology lessons about the Id and the Superego had a spiritual foundation.

"When demons escape from a threshold in which they can no longer do anything, they exit through a certain object so that damage is done to it. It tricks their master into thinking that their mission was successful. The use of power can make it look like they succeeded at something and at least attempted to complete their mission. This can lessen the punishment they receive from their master when they return to hell. They choose a point to exit and do a quick swipe wherever they can. In the Word, there was a case where Jesus was going to drive a Legion of demons out of a man, but they begged Jesus to let them exit through something. In that case, Jesus let them exit through pigs because of his compassion for the demons. Those pigs ended up going insane and jumping over a cliff."

"Woah, that's really...interesting. I didn't know about that story."

"Well, your culture tends not to mention the stories in the Bible where Jesus shows his Godly authority. Now, in cases in modern day, this 'Exit Event,' as some call it, can show itself in a power surge or a falling lamp. There are other cases, however, there can be problems inflicted upon a human. In your case…" Aelora paused as she prepared to give the news. "…he gave you brain damage."

"What?" Clark said, frantic. "How could he do that?"

"Calm down, Clark. Whenever a demon inflicts physical harm, a full recovery is always possible. However, you can choose the option of leaving this body and…"

"…dying? Is that what you want me to do?"

"Yes, that's the technical term. But it's really not death. It's a perfect existence."

"I have no doubt about that," Clark sighed. "But my parents would die without me. I have to stay so that they will be okay. I can't leave them yet, especially after all that they have been through. It would push them over the edge."

"I know," Aelora replied. "And I don't think you should die."

"Then why are you telling me this?"

"I want to be fair and give you all of your options. You might choose to die, or you might not. It's your decision. As was told to you before, only you can choose how much your flesh controls you. You don't have to let a coma…"

"Wait!" Clark shouted out of suddenly. "I hear something from the outside. I haven't heard anything in a while. Do you think I could be waking up?"

Aelora sighed after trying to discern what Clark was hearing. "I think it might be one of your parents. When a parent or a spouse talks to someone in your current state, they can usually be heard through the spirit because of the connection they share."

"Oh," Clark said, a little disappointed that he probably wasn't recovering. "So I guess I wouldn't be able to hear any of my friends if they came in."

"I'm afraid not, but why do you ask?"

"Just curious," Clark sad as he tuned the ears of his spirit toward listening to the outside world.

xXxXxXx

Martha tiptoed into the tiny room in which her son lay motionless in the small hospital bed. She pulled a chair over from the corner of the room and dragged it to the side of the bed. As if treating her body like a crystal statue, she slipped into the chair and laid her eyes upon her unconscious beloved.

"Clark," she said softly as she took his hand, careful not to disturb the IV embedded in his vein. "I hope you can hear me. Heh. Who am I kidding? You probably can't."

xXxXxXx

Clark looked to Aelora with a smile on his face. "I can hear her. It's my mom, Aelora! I can hear her!"

Aelora nodded confidently after she herself heard the voice of the mother.

"Boy, will she be surprised when I wake up," Clark laughed as he continued to listen.

xXxXxXx

"I hope that you know that I love you more than anything in the world. I know that I've told you that a million times, but sometimes the more you say it, the more empty it sounds. I hope that it doesn't this time. Now Clark, I know you're going to wake up. You are. You're going to come back to me. I have no doubt." Martha began to notice that she sounded like she was trying to convince herself of the possibility. She decided to stop talking about comas and start talking about something different, but just as important.

"Clark…I…I have something to confess to you. I remember when you were about six years old and you overheard me and your father having a fight. You started crying because you were afraid Daddy and I would get a divorce. I heard you and picked you up in my arms. I promised you that I would never hate your father and that we would always love each other no matter what." Martha paused as she took a deep breath and gripped her son's still hand harder. "I think that I broke that promise."

xXxXxXx

"No," Clark uttered as fear began to grow inside of him.

xXxXxXx

"I just…I hate your father so much right now. For what he did to you…for what he did to me…I mean I know it's not his fault. But, he could have fought harder! I don't know. Maybe I shouldn't feel this way, but I do. I don't know how not to."

xXxXxXx

"It appears that Destruction didn't leave completely after all," Aelora sighed as she put a hand on Clark's shoulder.

"Aelora," Clark said as he turned his head to face her. "My parents aren't going to…divorce, are they?"

Aelora closed her eyes and shook her head. "I don't know, honey. I can't tell the future. No one can but God."

"Then how will I know whether I should stay or not?"

"Does it make a difference?"

xXxXxXx

"Normally, I would be elated right now. I mean, fear and uncertainty would probably be there, too, but happiness would outweigh all of that."

xXxXxXx

"What's she talking about, Aelora?"

"Just listen, Clark."

xXxXxXx

"You see, the doctor ran some routine blood tests on me earlier while he was examining me. Anyway, the tests inadvertently made an interesting discovery. I'm…pregnant, Clark."

xXxXxXx

"Pregnant?"

Clark knew that if he and his body were one right now, he would have fainted. After all of the horrible things that had happened to them in the past few days, there was still an amazing miracle in the works.

"Wow, that even surprised me," Aelora laughed as she slid her fingers through her hair.

"But how…how did that baby survive…everything?"

Aelora looked at him and raised her eyebrows. "Honestly, Clark. If you don't know by now than you really are naïve."

xXxXxXx

"I don't know if I can be happy about it, though. I mean, I know that your father didn't mean to…oh look at me. I'm repeating myself. It's just that, I don't know what to do. I don't know if I can have a baby with that man. Not now. I don't know if I should subject a living thing to this…horror that our lives have all become."

xXxXxXx

"She sounds frightened. Aelora, why is she so scared? She wasn't with the first pregnancy."

"Why do _you_ think she's scared, Clark?"

"Well, she might be worried that she'll miscarry again…" His eyes began to widen as more possibilities flowed into his mind. "She might be worried that if the baby dies this time, than this…whole ordeal could happen again. She could also be concerned about being forced to stay with dad because of their connection to this child." Clark sighed before saying "I'm not liking this situation as much as I thought I would. I don't think pregnancy and this kind of fear are a very good combination."

"It never is," Aelora interjected.

"Maybe…maybe I should just go. Then that would compel her to keep the baby."

Aelora immediately widened her eyes before running over and grabbing Clark's shoulders. "Clark! I know I'm supposed to be supportive, but that's a stupid idea."

"I thought it was supposed to be my decision."

"I know, but you shouldn't choose to die just to prevent something that imight/i happen. You know your mother. Would she really have an abortion if you live? Would she definitely not have an abortion if you died?"

"Aelora, Mom is not in a good state of mind right now. She might keep the baby just to have another child."

"But she'll still hate your father!"

Clark was silenced as he hung his head put his face in his hand.

"Besides, she will lose a child either way if you die. At least if you live, you can help her through this. Please Clark, choose to fight."

"Why should I," Clark said as his voice began to break. "I know in heaven I won't have to deal with this…pain."

xXxXxXx

Martha jumped at the sound of one of her son's monitors spiking. She looked up to the heart monitor and saw that there was a slight dip in his heart rate. The mother allowed her adrenaline to go down as she accepted the beep as normal. Of course, the scare was too much for her fragile heart to handle, she simply lay her head down on her son's skin and began to weep.

xXxXxXx

Clark heard his mother crying and felt the water from her tears on his wrist. He lifted his wrist to his cheek and slowly stroked it across. However, no water came onto his cheek. The sensation only stayed on his wrist when his mother's soft skin lay as well.

"Mom! Stop crying please! Don't cry! I don't want you to be this sad. You can't give up on dad now!"

Clark fell on his knees and closed his eyes so that he could get the image of his mother in his mind. He tried to somehow attach to his eyes so that they could open, but there was no luck. It wouldn't work properly and Clark was getting frustrated. He then buried his face in his hands and caressed the wetness of his hand that continued to grow. All he wanted was to truly be able to physically feel his mother's tears so that he could comfort her. He didn't know what it was, but there is something in a child's heart that pains when he hears his mother crying. This part was very evident in Clark because he had heard Martha cry more times than he could count. Something inside Clark was dying at the sound of the familiar sobs.

"Aelora," Clark called to his companion of the past several days. "I don't know if I'll ever be able to do this. I haven't been making any progress. I feel like this is too hard. How am I going to recover from this? Even if I do, my life is never going to be the same!"

"That's why you don't want to go on. You think it will be hard? You think that it will make your already difficult life even harder"

A denial was on the tip of Clark's tongue, but he felt that lying to an angel was not a wise choice. "What are you, a witch?"

You're thoughts aren't a secret in here, Clark. You have to remember that it was caused by demonic intervention, so it's very possible to make a full recovery," Aelora said.

"I know," Clark said. "You've told me, but I think that whatever he did was too strong. I can't do it by myself."

Aelora sighed and looked up, as if for divine guidance from her Master. She then sighed once more and looked down at her friend.

"I was told not to tell you this, but I have been given permission. You can't do it by yourself. No one can."

"What?"

"It's not you who's going to get out of this coma. It is only you who decides to stick it out. The One who will release you from the coma is God."

"God? Great. Am I going to have to wait as long as I did to get out of the clutches Reverend Eval Kineaval?"

"Now Clark. What kind of attitude is that?"

"A realistic one," Clark said with a healthy amount of contempt.

Aelora shook her head and looked at him. "Clark, you're mad at God, I know. However, I hope that you can understand that it was God who saved you from Marduk, not you. God allowed you to have the power to defeat him once you put your faith in Him. You've forgotten that, which I've seen happen before. It only leads to the path to darkness."

"I believe in God, though. I'm not that naïve."

"Marduk does, too. He also knows the entire Word by heart."

"He…oh. That's true isn't it?"

"Yes it is. Simply believing in the existence of God is not good enough.

"Then…what do you have to do?" Clark asked, with a slightly frightened tone.

"Nothing. You can't do anything on your own. Well, you can ask Him for help in that situation. His disciples can also tell you about it a lot easier since they can actually experience the feeling of salvation. Angels simply tell things that are not obvious on earth."

Clark looked at her with large eyes as he put his hand through his hair. He took a deep breath and said, "I'm not mad at God. I'm just…mad. I can't shake it. I just…I hate that this might destroy my family. I hate that this might destroy me. What if I never recover from being blind? What if I have permanent emotional damage or something? How can I have patience when my heart is breaking by hearing my mom cry? Heck, what if my dad comes in here. He's going to feel guilty if he finally gets the guts to look at me. I'm going to want to comfort him and …"

Clark then felt a tiny twitch in his pinkie that made him stop short. He looked at his hand in awe that he felt his first sensation from his own brain in a while.

"Clark," Aelora cooed. "You have to make a conscious decision to stay and fight to live so that your family and the world will not suffer in your absence. That's a very selfless choice, and it's that attitude for other's that will help make this fight go smoother, even if you lose."

Clark smiled and continued to move his pinkie around until he felt more sensations from inside his actual digit. He smiled even more as he continued to feel the sensations, yet, this time, his mother's touch was included.

"I'll do it."

xXxXxXx

Martha's head sprung up as she stared at her son's heavily bandaged hand. She wiped the tears from her eyes and stood up in her chair. Did she just feel…?

She heard the table behind her shake a little bit. Startled, she whipped her head around to look behind her.

"Jonathan," Martha uttered, suddenly feeling her heart race. "How long have you been there?"

"Long enough," Jonathan said behind wet eyes and a lump in his throat. "I think we have to talk."


	16. The Reconciliation

Okay, here's the last chapter to the story, not including the upcoming epilogue. I just want to take this time to thank everyone for reading and commenting on this. Knowing I had fanshas really motivated me to write through hurricanes, tests, holidays, graduations, etc. I hope you all love this last bit:)

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Jonathan used his worn and calloused hands to fetch a chair from a corner of the room and slide it next to his wife. He then walked over to the small window that was given to them in their predicament and pulled open the blinds to let in the tiny amount of sunlight that was peeking through a blanket of grey clouds. All the while, Martha's blue eyes followed his every move.

"How is he doing?" he asked her in a coy tone.

"Same as before," Martha said in monotone. "Jonathan, maybe we should…"

"How could you not tell me about the baby?" the man interrupted as his hurt eyes gazed upon the redhead.

"I…I…" Martha was at a loss for words. There was really no excuse for not telling him about the baby.

"Is it even _mine_?"

"Yes, Jonathan," Martha replied, hurt. "It was conceived a month ago."

"A month ago," Jonathan repeated, almost robotically.

"I don't see why we're talking about this when there are more pressing matters here."

"Like the fact that our son is lying there…because of me," Jonathan shuddered through the immense lump in his throat. "It's not like I have to admit it anyway. You know my guilt as well as I do. It's not like you can lie about it now."

Within seconds there was an eruption of harsh words from both sides of the couple. It was almost like, there were no words, just yelling. The nurses were frightened to get involved and everyone passing by jogged past the room in fear that they would have to be the ones to stop it. However, even though no one bothered to listen to the words they were saying, there was one who could understand everything.

xXxXxXx

Clark was on his knees covering his ears as the cutting words continued to flow into his being. There was really no way to keep it out. His ears were not what was hearing this exchange, it was his soul.

"Aelora, can't you do something to stop them?"

"Clark, I know what you're thinking, and this is not _Touched by an Angel_. They have to work it out on their own. Angels can't do it for them."

Clark slowly brought his hands down and put them on his knees. "I'm guessing that they're fighting the same battle I was, only in a different way."

Aelora nodded and said, "Exactly right. You're really catching on to this whole underworld of ours."

"I guess I am, but there's one think that I can't understand. Why did I feel my pinkie? It was only for a second. Why didn't I just wake up?"

"Admitting flaws honestly is the first step, as well as admitting that your enemies are wrong," she said.

"I'll repeat. Why didn't I just…wait a minute. How did you know I did that? I didn't say anything."

"You didn't have to. It was in your heart. I saw it."

"Oh, so now you're telepathic?"

"Nope. You're not seeing the same thing I'm seeing in here. To your eyes, everything here has concrete form so that it is easier for you to handle and…you know what? You'll learn all of this eventually. Let me answer your last question. The only way that the spell will be broken completely is if your parents defeat this enemy as well."

"So you're saying that I could die if my parents don't…whatever they have to do."

"They have to forgive themselves and each other, and you won't die yet, you'll just stay in a coma."

"For how long?" Clark gulped.

Aelora shrugged her shoulders and said, "As long as your body can take it, I guess."

"Okay…so if they don't get over this anger, I'll still be toast and all of our fighting will have been for nothing?"

"In a nutshell, yes," Aelora sighed. "This horrible act was put forward by the enemy not only to destroy you, but your family as well. Since they can't get to you anymore, they're going after them so even if you do survive, which is unlikely if they are not defeated, you'll still be miserable. Plus, despite the fact that they're not saints, your parents are still very moral, and that makes them targets. Also, if they are still inhabited by demons, then you are pretty much 'toast by association' because of the connection."

"Excuse me?" Clark asked, confused.

Aelora sighed before giving yet another lesson. "There is a story in the Bible about Jesus healing a child who was possessed by demons because his mother was a deep pagan. The part of the story that you don't know is that the demon got to the boy because of her channeling of evil spirits. The boy was very young and not coherent enough to combat the dark forces within his bloodline so that he could avoid the torture. Even though this is a very different situation, the connection you share with your parents is just as strong."

"Okay," Clark said, looking down. "I think I get it now, but if I'm not around to keep them together, it will only get worse and worse and…oh Aelora, there has to be some way I can get to them to defeat these..."

"Let's stop right there. You can't fight spiritual battles for other people unless they are completely possessed."

Clark sighed and ran his fingered through his dark hair as his only hope for helping his parents fizzled. "What else can I do? Is there a way I can talk to them?"

"There is," Aelora chimed. "And now that you've realized that, I'll be right back."

"What," Clark asked confused. "Where are you going?"

Before she disappeared, the angel paused, "Angels might not be able to force people down the path of righteousness, but we can leave breadcrumbs to lead them there."

xXxXxXx

A heavy knock on the door interrupted the heated exchange between the couple. They figured that it was a doctor telling them to quiet down, but who they saw was not the doctor they expected.

"Mr. and Mrs. Kent," said the brown-haired woman standing in the doorframe dressed in a white lab coat. "May I talk to you for a few minutes?"

"Now's not really a good time," said Martha in a shaky voice, trying to figure out where she had seen this woman before.

"No, I think it is," she said in an assertive tone. "Your fight is very disturbing."

"Oh," Martha said, blushing. "I'm sorry if we've disturbed other people in the hospital."

"I'm talking about for your son," she replied in a strong voice.

Jonathan didn't know why, but the voice was disturbing him.

"Who are you?" Jonathan yelled at her. "This is a family matter and it's none of your business!"

Martha was embarrassed at her husband's rude behavior, but she was more intrigued by this woman's familiarity. She tried to banish it from her mind, but it was nagging at her.

"I'm a friend of your son. That's all you need to know for now."

Before the parents could respond, the woman raised her hand so that her palm was facing that couple and watched them collapse to the ground in a catatonic trance. She then proceeded to quickly lift them both into chairs so that no one walking by would ask any questions. She sighed and tried not to worry about what might happen and focused on praying for her friend to have wisdom to comfort his hurting parents.

xXxXxXx

The two feuding individuals opened their eyes to behold the amazing white light around them. Martha looked over to see her husband beside her shivering in extreme fear as his vision was fixed on a particular sight. It did not look like a fear that resulted from a frightening sight, but rather from surprise and awe. Curious, Martha turned her head to find out what was scaring him.

"Clark!" Martha choked out as she put her hands over her mouth. Her son was standing there in the exact clothes that he wore on the last day she had seen him happy. His beautiful skin was flawless, with no sign of injury anywhere on his body. Martha was speechless as she finally looked into the pure eyes of her son after days of only seeing the closed eyes of the scarred shell that was only a small fraction of what he used to be. She didn't say anything else before she ran into his waiting arms.

Clark wasn't able to describe how good it felt when he finally wrapped his arms around his mother's small body. It was like he was finally whole again and loved. The motherly contact that had eluded him was finally here and he wasn't he could do what he needed to do. The last thing he wanted right now was for his mother to be angry with her for interfering with her marriage. However, Aelora brought his parents here for a reason and he had to do this no matter how much he felt in this moment.

"Clark. How…?" Martha tried to get the words out but stopped herself because she didn't want to know how. She just wanted to hold the boy that her arms had longed to love to for so long.

"You're in my soul now, Mom. We had to get you here so that I could talk to you and Dad." He looked over to Jonathan who was still keeping his distance. Clark arched his eyebrows to indicate a desire for him to come nearer. However, the frightened farmer did not move a muscle.

"Oh Clark," Martha cried. "I've missed you so much. I'm so happy to see that you are still in here and fighting. Everyone said you weren't, but I knew you were."

"Well, my fight is over now, mom."

"That's right, Baby, and you handled it like the prince you are," she began. "I've waited so long to tell you that I am so proud of you. You went through the worst ordeal anybody can go through and yet you showed the same love and compassion as always. You're my hero and you always will be."

"I know you're proud, Mom, which is why you don't have to try too hard to prove it. I know you love me. I know that the first baby wouldn't have replaced me. Please don't think that Marduk convinced me of anything else."

"Mar who?" Martha asked with confusion.

"Never mind," Clark laughed. "Let's just say that I don't believe what I heard in that church at all. Unfortunately, I think I'm the only one."

Martha widened her eyes and backed away slightly from Clark. She narrowed her gaze and uttered, "What are you suggesting?"

Clark sighed, praying that his mother got the point, before continuing. "We're connected, Mom. In most situations our connection would not change this predicament, but now it's the only the only thing that can."

"What are you talking about, s…Clark?" Jonathan asked, getting closer.

Clark let out a happy sigh as he gained his father's attention. "This is a spiritual war, guys. It's been going on for years and it's finally reached its climax. I've won my part of the fight, but now you have to win yours. If you don't win, there's a possibility that I won't come out of this coma anytime soon."

"A war?" Martha asked, confused, and trying to take the subject off of the possibility of Clark dying. "Clark, I admit that this is a horrible situation, but I wouldn't go so far as to say that this is a war."

"You would if you could see beyond just this world," Clark made sure to speak loud so that his father would also be able to hear his words. "Now, before you brush me off, you have to take into consideration that this entire encounter would be impossible if such a world didn't exist."

Martha was trying to get over the surprise over this new way of talking her son had adopted while saying, "And I'm guessing that you can or something?"

"I saw a small part of it," Clark said as he guided his mother's hand down to the sword that was still at rest at his side.

"But…" Martha tried to suppress the scream her throat wanted to let out as she touched the weapon's handle.

"It's up to you two," Clark said sternly, not letting her say another word. "You have to defeat all of the doubt and the fear that is taking over before it completely destroys you."

Jonathan and Martha looked at each other across the long distance separating them and used their eyes to express the desire for each other to try and convince Clark that this was not as bad as they thought.

"Clark," Martha spat after she angrily realized Jonathan wasn't going to say another word. "I admit it. You and your father are having a fight. That's it! All couples have fights. I don't see why your fate or anything else depends on it."

Clark sighed as he tried to take in the flood of wisdom flowing into his head. "Really big fights between you and Dad are few and far between, Mom. You know that as well as I do. Plus, they're never about things like this. You blame dad for what happened to me, and that's understandable, but right now it's only a result of your anger about me. It's okay to be angry, but you have to get rid of every way that it could become something worse. Don't prolong the suffering that we've gone through these past days."

Martha wanted to protest again, but her heart told her that there was no point. Her son was right, as usual. She nodded and closed her eyes as she laid her head against Clark's chest once again. She could hear a beating heart inside the chest much harder than she heard any heart beat. She knew that the heart inside his body was now weak, but this heart, the heart of his spirit, was strong and it was in the right place.

"Are you saying that we have to work this out right now?" Martha asked, frightened.

"Well, yeah," Clark laughed. "That would be preferred."

"I don't know, Clark," Martha whispered. "These things take time."

"Only a few words will solve this problem, or at least solve it enough to declare us the winners of this fight."

"Oh…but…your father doesn't seem to want to participate." Martha stuttered.

Clark's eyes drifted over toward the form of his father, which was hanging its head so low that his chin was touching his chest.

"He's scared, Mom," Clark cooed. "I think I know why, and I also think I know how to help him out of it."

Clark kissed his mother's forehead and gently pushed her so that she got a signal to let him go. She nodded before reluctantly backing away to let her son walk toward her hurting husband in the distance. As Clark neared, Jonathan's heavy head lifted up and stared at his beautiful and almost perfect son through teary eyes.

"Dad, please," Clark said as he reached his fingers toward his father's face. The farmer's heart felt full of fear as he looked at the nearing hand. He backed away and hid his face to shield from the glow that was emanating off of his son's clean spirit.

"Don't call me that," Jonathan choked out. "I don't deserve to be called your father. I betrayed you."

A single tear slid down Clark's cheek, but despite the shunning gesture, he continued to reach out his hand. His outstretched hand touched the shoulder of his mentor and patriarch.

Jonathan felt a wave of warmth as the two souls connected, but he was forced to pull away.

"Get away from me, Clark," Jonathan whispered with intensity.

"You're not going to hurt me again, Dad!"

"How can you say that?" Jonathan shouted as tears began to emerge from his eyes. "How do you know that those feelings weren't truly in my heart?"

"Daddy," Clark whispered back. The word hit Jonathan like a flaming arrow as evidenced by a visible shiver. "You're not going to hurt me. You love me."

"How can you say that?" Jonathan yelled as he turned to face the boy. "I…look what I did to you!"

"It wasn't you."

"That's too easy to say Clark! I should have fought harder. I…"

Another warm sensation caused Jonathan to stop in his tracks. This time it was on his heart. Clark was touching his chest with the tips of all five fingers while slowly working his palm foreword so that it too was touching. The man's eyes closed as the warm feeling enveloped his being, stunning his into silence. He slapped his own hand over that of his son's and gripped hard. Tears were beginning to flow down his cheeks as the feeling continued to work his way though his own soul. He didn't want this to leave him.

"Dad," Clark said while his father was still silent. "You said that you loved me more than anything. I believe you. Now tell me again, do you love me?"

Jonathan brought his blue eyes up to meet the deep green of Clark's before he uttered, "Of course, I mean, I thought I did…"

"Don't over-think it, Dad. Do you love me?"

Jonathan furrowed his brow and gulped before stuttering, "Of course. You know I love you."

Clark smiled and nodded before saying, "Then care for my mother."

"Excuse me?" Jonathan asked, confused.

"Do you love me, Dad?"

"You already asked me that Clark. You know I love you." Jonathan was beginning to feel a little hurt by the questioning.

Clark put his other hand on the farmer's shivering cheek and began to wipe away his tears with his thumb. "Then accept my forgiveness."

"Clark," Jonathan whispered with closed eyes. "How can I do that? You're just forgiving me because its what you do."

"Dad," Clark interrupted. "I really do forgive you. I forgive you for the church. I forgive you for the words. I forgive you for all of the times you thought that you failed as a father. A few of those times it might have been true, but it really doesn't matter anymore. We're flawed, Dad. Everyone is. We all make mistakes and all the PC blather in the world isn't going to change that. God knows that and that's why we have the inert talent of giving and accepting forgiveness within us. All you have to do is look a little bit and you'll find it."

Jonathan was silent as Clark dropped his hands to let him take in the words. The farmer looked as his son's smiling face as memories began to overtake his mind. The glow of happiness that was felt when opening Christmas presents. The beauty of love whenever they gathered for Thanksgiving dinner. The times in which Clark always showed him love no matter what. The numerous occasions when Clark told him he couldn't survive without him. They touched him deep down and for some reason he didn't understand, reassured him that there was no danger within his soul.

Without warning, Jonathan surged forward and threw his muscular arms around the boy. Clark followed suit and ran his fingers through his father's blond hair and kissed his cheek in order to comfort him as he began to cry violently. Jonathan's sobs were so loud that they began to echo around the soul, even making Martha's ears tingle.

"Oh Clark! My son! Clark." Jonathan's words were jumbled as he tried to make his shaking lips catch up with his breath.

"It's okay Dad," Clark whispered as he continued to stroke his father's scalp. He only had to do this for a few minutes before they felt another set of arms join in on the love connection. The two looked over to see Martha clutching both of her favorite men and sobbing in a sorrowful manner.

"Martha…" Jonathan said in a neutral voice.

"I'm sorry," she cried. "I'm so sorry. I had no idea you were hurting so much."

"Its okay, Sweetheart," Jonathan whispered in her ear. "I'm sorry, too."

Normally, Clark would be sickened by the numerous words of affection that followed, but this time, the boy was thrilled. He smiled as he held his beloved parents close to him and took in this beautiful moment that he had been longing for so long. The warmth that Clark felt around him made him glance toward the ceiling of his soul. Clark could feel sensations all around him as his body started to regain strength and his spirit was beginning to connect again.

About ready to cry himself, Clark said. "I think the spell is broken. I can feel the sun! I'm starting to heal."

"The sun?" Jonathan uttered before sniffing. "It's been overcast all day. I mean, the window's open, but…"

"Jonathan," Martha interrupted with a smile. "I think that it's about time we just accepted these things when they happen."

"I'm glad you think that, Mrs. Kent," said a feminine voice from a small distance away.

The three heads whipped around to meet the deep blue eyes of the tall woman dressed in white with a radiant smile on her face.

"Aelora," Clark laughed.

"Aelora!" Martha and Jonathan said as they suddenly recognized the strange woman. No more words needed to be said as realization took shape in the couple's minds.

"Aelora, I…I think I'm waking up." Clark said happily. "They…we did it. We won our first real spiritual battle."

"Well, it hasn't been your first spiritual battle, but it was certainly the most difficult," Aelora said as she walked toward the boy. "Soon you and your body will be one again, and after that, all of the doubts and fears that come with it will return."

"Yeah, you're right," Clark said to his friend. "But we'll get through it. Heck, if we can get through a demon's brand of torture, we can get through anything."

"You know that this isn't the end of these attacks, right?" Aelora said with a worried tone. "They know that you are going to be something great, and they're not going to give up in trying to destroy your family. You're not invulnerable to their attack just because you're now a strong soul. Only perfect souls can resist them completely."

"I know," Clark said, taking in Aelora's warning. "Next time they come, I'll be ready for them, mostly because of what you told me." The boy then smiled and said, "Thank you for everything."

"You're welcome, Love," Aelora said as she reached past his parents and squeezed the boy's large shoulder. She then gave affectionate pats on the back to both of the stunned parents as they looked back and forth from Aelora to Clark, confused and amazed at the same time.

"I'll explain later," Clark laughed as he noticed his parent's confused faces. "Besides, we have the rest of our lives, now."

**The End**


End file.
